A Hawk's Eyes
by Calypse
Summary: The series ends with Roy Mustang's untimely death. In a fit of grief, his lieutenant raises him from the grave but what she gets back isn't Roy and what it wants from her is an entirely different matter. ::Royai::
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** A Hawk's Eyes

**Summary:** The series ends with Roy Mustang's untimely death. In a fit of grief, his lieutenant raises him from the grave but what she gets back isn't Roy and what it wants from her is an entirely different matter.

**Rating:** T+ for dark themes

**Pairing:** Royai

**Disclaimer:** After all this time, no, I still do not own FMA

**Warning:** Major character death, slight x-over themes from the manga and the anime. (revamped)

* * *

**Day 1**

Roy Mustang is dead. Not by some unknown assailant's hand, nor in a glorious battle where he emerged triumphant only to collapse a moment later. No, he was killed by a stray bullet ricocheting off of the late Colonel Archer's face. Hawkeye received no charges but was demoted to the rank of Second Lieutenant, a mar in her clean record.

The nation grieves for a fine man, a soldier, an alchemist lost to the throes of death.

Yet none of this matters when other men, close friends, strangers, carries Mustang's coffin towards a pit in the ground, symbolically placing it right next to Brigadier General Hughes's grave. They will be best friends to the end.

She can hear Havoc next to her whispering 'Take good care of him'. She throws a red rose into the grave, an action mimicked by many other people. The scarlet petals are a startling contrast against the solid wood. A shovel full of dirt soon follows. Hawkeye can't keep herself from crying.

**Day 2**

The rain streams down in lukewarm rivulets. The air is fogged with haze, and Riza can almost imagine Roy crying. She cries as well. Riza Hawkeye cries for the man who cannot.

**Day 3**

Farman drives her to the cemetery. She dismisses him after a few words.

She does not answer the inquiring gaze that lingers after her as he drives away, and she walks up the familiar hill, a favorite haunt of the late Brigadier General Roy Mustang.

On top are two graves amongst many others; two graves in a field of tombstones, side by side.

She peers down at the most recent one, sculpted from marble and covered by flower petals. The day is still gray. Yesterday's air hadn't dried yet. She rearranges the flowers on both graves and leaves.

**Day 4**

She buys two bottles of ink, both jet black in color. She also buys a fine pen and sheets of lavender scented paper.

She writes letters, even to Black Hayate napping at her feet. Only the first ink bottle is opened, the second remains sealed on her desk. There is a mountain of shredded paper in the trashcan.

Black Hayate sneezes.

**Day 5**

Mail arrives; a pre-ordered package. A jewel studded locket with an empty space inside for a picture, or something else entirely. She hasn't decided what to put in yet. It's all she can do but break down as she opens the package.

The locket is beautiful. Gold in color and spangled with garnet and other red and umber gems she cannot name. Her name is engraved on the back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** A Hawk's Eyes

**Summary:** The series ends with Roy Mustang's untimely death. In a fit of grief, his lieutenant raises him from the grave but what she gets back isn't Roy and what it wants from her is an entirely different matter.

**Rating:** T+ for dark themes

**Pairing:** Royai

**Disclaimer:** After all this time, no, I still do not own FMA

**Warning:** Major character death, slight x-over themes from the manga and the anime. (revamped)

* * *

**Day 6**

She takes a walk to Mustang's apartment with a bag. In case, just in case there was something to be salvaged through the ensuing chaos. Few privates are there, sorting through the late General's things. They all shift guiltily on their feet when she comes in. She freezes for a moment but regains her stride.

The books are still on the shelves in alphabetic order. Everything from a book on alchemy to the newest issue of a random magazine on how to seduce women (as if he really needed that) are all there, as if he was alive and not...

There is a clean uniform in the closet; a silver watch dangles down temptingly.

She takes it.

**Day 7**

She does the laundry, inspecting every article before hanging the stiff blue material out to dry. There is a letter with the certification of her request of vacation. She tosses it away carelessly; the ink is still unopened on her desk.

Hayate barks.

**Day 8**

She goes to the library and looks up alchemic arrays. She spies a familiar one and traces it on to a piece of paper before retreating hastily.

That night, Hayate is tied to the living room couch.

**Day 9**

Hayate whines pitifully as his mistress runs in and out of the apartment carrying things that are obviously not food. He is offered raw steak and boiled potatoes for dinner. He wags his tail, feeling better.

That night, she looks at her back in the mirror and copies it to the best of her ability.

**Day 10**

She arranges the older, wilted flowers on the now empty grave, setting down a small rock over them to hold them down. Then she places her own flowers, ten white-pink roses and four bloody red.

She buys more paper, she practices drawing the arrays.

And the world seems just that much darker.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** A Hawk's Eyes

**Summary:** The series ends with Roy Mustang's untimely death. In a fit of grief, his lieutenant raises him from the grave but what she gets back isn't Roy and what it wants from her is an entirely different matter.

**Rating:** T+ for dark themes

**Pairing:** Royai

**Disclaimer:** After all this time, no, I still do not own FMA

**Warning:** Major character death, slight x-over themes from the manga and the anime. (revamped)

* * *

**Day 11**

The whole world seems to be against her as she tries to finish up for the day and go home. Fury comes with a stack of papers, the happy smile wilting underneath the former first lieutenant's cold gaze. Havoc comes in with a few orders from upper ups that demanded her presence at the trial of a few minor criminals. Vato Falman couldn't driver her home today.

The clock strikes eleven and she glares at it as if it is the cause of her horrible day. She is alone in the office, alone in the office where he used to be. With hesitant steps she walks over to Mustang's desk, untouched since his death. No one knew what to do with it. It was as if they almost believe the tangible presence of their beloved colonel would be gone if they had the gall to throw the piece of furniture out.

Unlike the days when he was alive, the desk was clean. Hawkeye feels the tears coming on.

The clock strikes twelve and she is still in the office, pouring her heart over the wooden surface.

**Day 12**

She asks for a few days of leave for she feels a cold coming on. Her superior looks at her questioningly but nods at the reasonable request as there are already too many soldiers calling in sick. She asks Fury to take Black Hayate for a few days. She can't bear to think of her precious pet near her and her project when the time comes.

She draws an array, part of it with a chalk before erasing it. Her hand shakes and her back itches. She can remember years ago when her father was still alive, her father guiding her hand on the sandy shores of a beach. She can remember her mother... how she cried and railed against her father. Why couldn't he bring her back?

He loved her, she's sure of it.

A line grows into a circle.

Then why...?

A pentacle...

She loves Roy Mustang. There she's said it. She loves him, she loves him, she loves him, she loves him...

She will bring him back.

By morning an incomplete array is stark white against the floor in the faint dawn as Riza Hawkeye closes the door to her unused storage room.

**Day 13**

"Really I'm fine." Riza repeats into the receiver as the concerned voice of Gracia Hughes comes from the other end. She fiddles with the phone line and looks down at the list of items still needed on her scented paper. She fakes a cough; she can almost see the wince of sympathy on the other woman's face.

"I'm fine." She repeats.

She will be.

**Later**

She piles all the alchemic ingredients in the middle and leaves it there for a moment. She runs into her bathroom and takes her shirt off. She has her pen and a bottle of ink with her. The burns stretch across her array, a fit of nostalgia hits her, the memories of pain. How handsome Roy had looked against the red skyline right before he had burned her grief away.

She takes the ink and redraws her array, the one engraved in her mind, the one that looks so much like his...

**Day 14**

She can't tell what day it is. She doesn't need to know. She just needs to make this right. She's wearing a shirt with an exposed back. She doesn't want to take anymore risks than necessary. The array is complete, just like her heart will be.

_Just let this work... please..._

She slams her hands on the array.

Once her father told her about the gate, she never thought she'd get to see it. Her alchemy goes wrong, so wrong that her conscious began to scream at for what a stupid twit she had been.

_If others couldn't do it what makes you think you could?_

The black lightning arches up and eats at her skin but she ignores the pain. Instead, she reaches out for the twisting mass of flesh in the middle of the violet whirlpool. For a moment she believes that it was Roy, Roy! Staring at her through the haze of purple smoke, for a moment she believes in spite of the pain that plagued her body that she might have succeeded.

"Your eyes are quite beautiful."

She draws a sharp breath of air into her lungs and nearly chokes on it.

"Roy?"

A strange figment of light dances in front of her, mouth open as if it were laughing as it blows a raspberry at her.

"I mean it," the being sneers nastily, "You're eyes are pretty. I want them." A rush of horror floods her stomach and windpipe, she backs away never managing to get farther away from the weird light. "Don't you want him back...?"

Riza screams.

**Day 15**

Her mind still burns with the images. Too much information pounding on her skull and it feels as if her head is about to split apart... she collapses on to her side, feeling something warm travel down the sides of her face like tears.

A small mewing somewhere off to the side. A sound so pitiful she struggles to get up and reach whatever it was that was making such a hurt whine. She reaches forward, her nail scraping the floor and scooping up bits of blood, fat, flesh and dirt. She crawls over to this warm, beating, thing that immediately deflates under her hand when she tries to touch it. She tries and tries to get a hold of it. The thing making such a heart wrenching sound, but the brittle bone snap in her hands and her hands just seem to melt into its skin.

She realizes that the bleating has climbed into a scream. She retracts her hand, opening her mouth and forcing an apology out beyond her chapped lips. She tries... something sticky lands on her face and begins to lick her. She first thinks Black Hayate but the puppy's tongue is bigger than this and the licks are all too ferocious to be of her stray. She suddenly realizes when the saliva runs down the sides of her face mixed in with whatever that had been running down her face earlier, it isn't tears she's shedding, it's blood.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** A Hawk's Eyes

**Summary:** The series ends with Roy Mustang's untimely death. In a fit of grief, his lieutenant raises him from the grave but what she gets back isn't Roy and what it wants from her is an entirely different matter.

**Rating:** T+ for dark themes

**Pairing:** Royai

**Disclaimer:** After all this time, no, I still do not own FMA

**Warning:** Major character death, slight x-over themes from the manga and the anime. (revamped)

* * *

**Day 16**

She doesn't know how long she's been out. How long that warm presence had stayed by her side purring and caressing the side of her face. Her sockets burn, _oh god it burns!_ She tries to get up but realizes that her limbs have become jelly, flailing on the blood-slick floor. The thing beside her moves as if it notices her desire to move. It hoists her up on its back(?) And begins the short journey to wherever it was going to. Each step jars her and she lets out a small yelp. Each time a hand tickles her sides and her neck and lets her know that for now she isn't alone.

"Roy?" she forces her cracked lips to move, running her dry tongue over the red fissures. "Roy?" she gets a snickering in return and whatever hope she held in her heart evaporates like her unshed tears with only a dry trail of blood left as a reminder.

She doesn't know how but she's placed on a bed with the sheets tucked up to her chin. Butterfly touches claim her lids but moves away just as quickly content to watch her frown in pain.

"Need. Water." Was she really as weak as she sounded? But a glass of water is placed by her head. She tries to grab it and knocks it over. Whoever that's with her makes an amused noise and fetches another. This time he holds it long enough for her to tilt it a bit and lick the spill. She tastes soap, perhaps he got it out of the sink? Did she even do the dishes last night? The day before? She can't remember and more water is spilt on her lips. She sputters a bit before eagerly drinking the fresh and soapy liquid. "No more," she croaks and she is lost to the darkness once more.

**Day 17**

How long has it been?

Is it day or is it night?

Which way is up?

Where is she?

_What happened? _

She takes a big breath and calms her thudding heart. She pushes her sheets away and sets her feet down on the cold, wooden floor and stumble towards the general direction of the bathroom. Her hands grope in the darkness for a foothold, anything. She hits the wall, she follows it.

Dimly she is aware of another presence by her side. Roy? Maybe, the cold logic in her tells her that she has failed; the man she traded her eyes for is nothing more than a flesh and blood doll. A homunculus to be exact.

To this she represses another sob. She finally reaches the sink and quickly turns the faucet. Water, too hot, comes pouring out. She eagerly dips her fingers in it, delighting as the scalding sensation washed all the blood and gore away. She splashes her face with some of it, not really minding the sting and scrubs her face hard. She reaches for the soap and rubs it across her face haphazardly. Her empty sockets burn against the foamy bubbles but she keeps washing and washing and washing...

A sharp swipe against her ear. She feels a few strands of her hair cut off and landing on her neck. The bar of soap in her hand has been split in two. She licks her lips nervously tasting bloody soap water. She turns around slowly towards the supposed direction of her creation.

"No more," he rumbles, "No, more." The water is still on; the air is heavy with heat. She hastily turns the water off and reaches for a towel. The newly born homunculus mutely hands her a towel, she gladly accepts and wipes her face with it. She drops it with a small gasp as she remembers what he is.

Perhaps there's a smile on his face. If it is a he that is... but the return to her bed is wrapped in silence as the thick comforter is tugged up to her chin once more. Something glides through her matted hair, she swats it away. There is no response, nothing except her growing drowsiness and the uncomfortable warmth. It could have been seconds, minutes, or hours but she washes away into the black abyss once more.

It is the phone that wakes her. The phone makes her realize that she is very much alive and breathing, in pain but still on her feet. Reality reminds her how dangerous it is to keep a homunculus in her home. The thing is not her beloved colonel; it is a proof of her treason and her foolish dreams.

The phone rings shrilly and she stumbles to get it, only to hear it being cut off in mid-ring as something sharp cuts through it. The scatter of something hard on the floor confirms the death of her phone. She collapses onto her knees. Her mind swims as she tries to grasp the situation at hand.

What must she do?

What should she do?

What should be done?

What's going to happen?

How's she going to explain this?

How's she going to destroy it?

_What would Roy do if he were the one to bring her back from the grave?_

"You shouldn't be up." She detects a snide tone in his-_its_, she repeats to herself-voice. Or is she already attempting rationalize it into something unimportant and generic that she won't feel so guilty about it later when she presses the muzzle of her gun up against his face? She wonders if he will let her do that, the monster that is sure to be wearing his face. Her creation, her Roy.

And a strange thought enters her mind. Perhaps she can keep him here. She could quit the military and live her life out in the country with him. Nobody would have to know and...

She shakes her head and stomps the idea flat. Ridiculous, that thing was not, is not, and never will be Roy.

But what if it _is_?

"You shouldn't be up." The homunculus repeats and her body trembles. Her body trembles like the night she realized her colonel had fallen and never get up again. She tries to scoot backwards; reaching out for something she can grab and hold on to. Something stable and not alive and fleshy warm like her creation was.

Is

**Day 18**

There is a furious knocking by the door. She gets up dizzily; she can't feel nor hear her creation.

There is a muffled sound, someone calling her name?

And an inevitable crack as her door folds under the pressure and swings open on its hinges. There is a surprised yell and a swift swipe of something sharp against something. Crackles of lightning light up the hallway but she doesn't see that, she never will again.

She quickly climbs out her bed, falling onto her knees before she can get up again. She stumbles towards where her front door should be. Her legs are stronger than they were yesterday (earlier today?), but still impossibly weak. She lets out some yelp/shout and latches onto the nearest solid body she comes across.

The body's cold.

She immediately pulls away.

Everyone and everything is silent. No angry growls mean it's not Fury, no rustling of groceries means it's not Breda, fighting means no Falman which leaves...

"What. is. that?"

Edward Elric had returned from his latest mission.

They sit around a table (or at least she thinks it's a table) waiting for each other to break the silence. She can feel Roy... the _homunculus'_ gaze sizing her reaction around the guests. And she can feel the anticipation, blood has already been spilt, the smell is unmistakable.

"What were you thinking?" As usual, Edward gets straight to the point, bristling like a cat offended. His fist strikes the table and its a small miracle that it does not crack under the force. Hayate lets out a plaintive whine at the loud noise.

"I was thinking of a way to bring him back." She says calmly, waving a hand in the direction of where she thought the homunculus would be. "As you can see... this is the result."

Havoc, the other guest, eyes the homunculus nervously. He stubs out his near gone cigarette out and lights another. The sin stares back at him brazenly; Havoc quickly ducks and looks away.

"But... how? You're not an alchemist!"

Hawkeye looks evenly at the short blonde. She cannot look, see anymore. A stab to her heart, she's glad of the itchy material around her eyes.

"My father was an alchemist and Roy... Roy taught me some of what he knew."

Edward stares disbelievingly at Riza, and then tears his gaze to stare at the sin, then back again. Riza is calm and composed; she does not see the monster she has created. She can feel his face but she does not see it.

Sometimes you just have to see to believe...

Edward approaches the sin slowly. Havoc is in the living room talking with Hawkeye about her future now that the possibility of working in the military is nil. Roy had an impressive account and had left it all to his subordinates in case of death. Hawkeye received the largest part of it, should she ever need to use it.

The homunculus was well-made, surprisingly detailed for such an amateur. In the sunset with the sun's rays putting a semblance of life on the pale skin, the not-man looks almost human. All too painfully real to think of him as a zombie of his former superior.

"Did you need something?"

The homunculus suddenly asks and Ed is struck dumb by it. He feels a slight sting behind his eyes, all the things he's never told his colonel, all the 'thank you's he missed on giving out clogs up his throat.

"How are you?" Ed isn't sure how to phrase the question any better than he can make it sound in his head. What is he supposed to ask? 'Do you feel like becoming a mass murderer yet?' or 'Do you feel the need to kill someone?'.

A near circle of red, a winged serpent swallowing its tail is centered on the homunculus' collar bone. He is the new Lust; he looks at Ed with something akin to amusement. Once again Ed is bombarded with the memories of a cocky smirk not totally unlike the one on the Sin's face.

"I am Roy, isn't that what I'm supposed to be?"

"Who." Corrects Ed instinctively, bristling. Lust nods once and continues,

"He's dead, but I'm here..."

**Day 19**

Havoc and Falman goes over the paperwork with her. Fury brings Hayate, Breada brings a bag of groceries, and Gracia comes over with a homemade pie. Riza is surprised at the support of her fellow colleagues. They all shrug it off, Ed comes later bringing a human Al, trying to see how the ex-lieutenant created the sin of Lust.

Roy-Lust is quiet; almost satisfied as the mousy blonde haired woman fusses over the eyeless one. He narrows his eyes when the woman turns towards him. She quickly turns away towards someone who would explain what the doppelganger of her husband's best friend is doing there.

She probably knows in her heart though. After all she asked for the same thing when he died.

Lust blinks, startled.

"Umm, chief you alright?"

Havoc nervously toys with his lighter (he was prohibited from smoking) as he approached the still sin. The tired blue eyes held a mixture of emotions, resentment, wonder but above all fear. Something rises within him asking him to squash out the last one. Something... something that should not have been there... something that was the remnants of Roy's consciousness still floating freely through his mind like a wayward cotton spore caught in the wind. Wherever it landed, it would germinate and soon it wouldn't just be Lust anymore, it would be Roy with a specific purpose in mind. But Lust desired so much...

Lust shrugs

"As well as I can be when everyone thinks I'm someone I'm not."

There, resentment. Resentment that he was wearing the face of his superior or the fact that he simply is? Something laughs inside of him so loud and clear. It is something he would learn to hate and yearn in time. A mark of something he cannot be however he might try.

Havoc looks as though he might say something else, but he leaves ducking his head. Probably to smoke outside the apartment door. Everyone flinches as the door slams behind the tall blonde.

Lust lets out a small smile.

**Day 20**

The Fullmetal boy asks if he could examine him. Reluctantly, Roy-Lust agrees, slightly nervous about leaving Riza all alone (with Gracia, Elysia, and Sheska dropping by every two seconds) in her apartment. He has to wear a ridiculous wig and a trench coat that cover the lower half of his face. He isn't to be recognized until they reach the Armstrong house hold.

The trip is uneventful aside from Fullmetal lashing out whenever someone mentions the word 'short' with his brother Al restraining him. Lust's hand itch too when someone remarks on his odd fashion sense. But the trip is mostly uneventful as Alex Louis Armstrong leads them towards the family library on the second floor.

Lust notices that the pink sparkles around the man's head dulls slightly when his violet eyes cut across Armstrong's blue ones.

Ed and Al sits down on the plush couch in the middle of the library. They would continue to talk here; the walls and the books will be thick enough to absorb their voices.

Lust wanders around, shedding his coat on the sofa arm and idly looking at the titles of various books. Most are rare, ridiculously expensive books on philosophy and religion. Here and there books on alchemy divide up the sections. Occasionally, there are novels the suit the needs of the young mistress in the house.

"We can't... let him live..."

"But brother..."

"But nothing, he's not... he's not the bastard general. Lieutenant Hawkeye wouldn't have given away her eyes just for... that thing!"

"Brother!" Alphonse's tone is sharp and everything is silent.

Roy-Lust continues his examination of the bookshelves.


	5. Chapter 5

**A Hawk's Eyes**

**Summary: **In grief and despair she buried the man she loved. In grief and despair she completed the array on her back. In grief in despair she exchanged her eyes with a monster with his face...

**Timeline:** It's a crossover between the manga and the anime except it leans more towards the animation. In fact, the only scene used in this story that is exclusively from the manga would be the tattoo on Hawkeye's back.

**Warnings:** slight AU and x-over theme between the anime and the manga. Spoilers are imminent

* * *

**Day 21**

She hates it.

The feeling of helplessness, the feeling of blindness overwhelms her when she tries to get her bearings.

There is a steaming mug of hot coffee in front of her.

Was

She accidentally knocked it over when she was reaching out for it and now the dark liquid spills over the small table and onto the wooden floor. Hayate whines anxiously when he sees the blackish liquid drip steadily down from the table. Riza makes no motions to pick the cup back up.

For the first time since the Ishival Massacre a sense of doubt shackles her ankles when she needs to act. She should put the cup back on its right side, she should get a towel to mop it up, and she should make sure her loving stray doesn't drink the spilt coffee, she should do the dishes, she should...

She lets out a small sob.

It's 10 in the morning, Gracia had already gone by with the promises of an apple pie on the next visit.

Ed is not back yet.

Al is not back yet,

And Roy... he was never there in the first place.

**Day 22**

Ed decides that he really has no place in Lust's judgment.

It was Riza's choice, Riza's love that bade the monster to manifest into this world. It would be up to her long gone eyes to make her truly see what she had done. The blonde accepts the dark haired sin as her punishment when Ed tells her that he would drop by every few days to check on the homunculus.

Lust lets out a purring laughter in amusement.

Did they really think that he would attack her?

They didn't know the extent of what Riza had done and perhaps they never would.

The sin's eyes flashed violet in challenge to the teen's obstinate gold.

Ed huffs out loudly before leaving with his embarrassed looking brother.

Riza turns towards Roy... Lust.

"You look tired."

"I am."

She gets up, intending to clean a dish or two before feeding Hayate. She briefly wondered if Lust could get along with her stray. Certainly Hayate could not be made to get along with the homunculus. The dog snarled and foamed at the mouth whenever the not-man came near. Almost as if his simple mind grasped what she could not.

He isn't a man, he isn't even human.

He isn't alive, was, but is not.

He's not Roy.

"You are sad."

She drops the dish in her hands.

**Day 23**

She bites into a slice of Gracia's apple pie and gives the rest to Hayate. She thinks about setting aside a few pieces for Lust to eat then laughs at herself, Lust doesn't need to eat. The thought depresses her.

"_You are sad."_

She doesn't know if Lust meant that as in 'pathetic' or 'melancholy'. She finds that such a trivial matter of translation becomes important to her as Hayate paws her pants as if asking for more of the sweet treat.

Suddenly the atmosphere of the room changes as Lust enters. Hayate raises his hackles and barks loudly. Riza quiets him and sends him on his way into another room. The stay protests verbally, warbling out strings of moans and yelps as he is locked into her bedroom.

Riza faces him, or faces his general direction.

"What did you mean by that?"

"That?"

He is amused; Roy was always amused when she was asking.

"When you said I was sad."

She can mentally picture Lust rolling his shoulders as Roy did when he shrugs. She wonders exactly how much they were alike. How much do you have to be alike to scare the wits out of several men jaded from their experiences in war and battle?

"I meant what I said."

"And what did you mean?"

He is by her side in a blink of an eye.

"You are sad. Very, very sad."

He turns to go do the laundry.

The doorbell rings and she answers it. A kindly sounding woman hands her a basket full of fruits though her voice is surprised and bewildered when she sees the bandages across Riza's face. Before they can delve into the subject of her lost eyes however, Lust becomes her unwilling rescuer as he tells the woman to go away.

**Day 24**

"It's what you humans do isn't it?" Lust asks bored, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers.

For once Hayate does not try to attack the homunculus. Riza simply ignores Lust as she giggles softly at Hayate's antics.

Lust observes the blonde through the corner of his eyes.

Riza was built strong, built to last. The simple sundress she had on was nothing more than a cover for the prowling lioness beneath. She might have lost her eyes, she might have been wounded beyond repair, but that made her much more dangerous to deal with. The ex-soldier in a faded blue sundress could possibly be the death of him. Lust felt his lips curl when he saw three figures approach them.

"Shouldn't you be off wreaking havoc or something?"

Havoc jumps anxiously at the sound of his name being called. Ed waves him off, and the blue eyed blonde joins Riza, Hayate and Al on the grass.

Lust has an unreadable expression on his face.

"Why must everyone expect the worst of me?"

"Because you're you."

Ed grumbles and in spite of himself, lays himself out in full against the soft grass. He is exposed. The homunculus could easily kill him if he wanted to. But Ed trusts that the presence of Riza is enough to keep the killing urges at bay. Ed had not had sleep in many days. He wishes he could relax, but he doesn't.

"Because I'm a bastard colonel? Dear Full-Metal, I'll have you know my parents were married when they had me."

Ed jerks up in surprise.

No one notices this exchange and if they did, they don't show it.

"That's what he would have said isn't it?" the homunculus sneers and the ugly truth slams down and hits Ed upside down on his head.

"You... fucking..."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Lust says breezily as he observes the trio of humans on the grass. "She's been so sad lately; it would be a shame to ruin it."

**Day 25**

She wonders as she watches. No, not watch, not any longer. Her pride and joy, the eyes that Roy liked the best are now gone. Stripped away from her bodily flesh like her rank had been when she quit the military. So she listens instead and learns of little details that no one really notices. The little details that tell her Lust isn't who he really is.

"Who are you really?" she asks.

"Hmm?" the homunculus is too compliant, acceptable since there were no others to convert him towards becoming human. As far as the dark haired sin was concerned, he was human. A stronger, better one.

"You know things." She struggles to explain. It is hard to talk when she cannot read the other's moves. "You know things that you shouldn't have known, not unless you were really him."

"And who is this 'him' you speak of? Me or somebody else?"

"But you know who it is."

Lust winds a hand around the base of her skull and presses his lips against hers. Riza can feel the distinctly sharp claws scrape against her skin as he slowly caresses her. She can feel the tiny pops of electricity as he retracts his nails and licks his lips.

If she could cry, she would have.

"Very sad indeed."

He leaves her there. Until there is a knock on the door and she stumbles to get it. She is greeted by Winry.

Strangely, Lust makes himself scarce that night.


	6. Chapter 6

**A Hawk's Eyes**

**Summary: **In grief and despair she buried the man she loved. In grief and despair she completed the array on her back. In grief in despair she exchanged her eyes with a monster with his face...

**Timeline:** It's a crossover between the manga and the anime except it leans more towards the animation. In fact, the only scene used in this story that is exclusively from the manga would be the tattoo on Hawkeye's back.

**Warnings:** slight AU and x-over theme between the anime and the manga. Spoilers are imminent

**A.N.:** Why? Why are the chapters getting longer?!

**

* * *

**

**Day 26**

She learns to live with it, even though she hasn't truly learned to live with it. The space beneath the pillow is always occupied by her favorite handgun. She does not know how much good it will do to her -especially- since she has no eyes. But the gun offers small comfort as she holds it in her hands, her fingers lightly dancing over the words engraved on the side.

'Happy birthday Riza'

Riza, he had called her Riza.

Had,

Had,

Had,

She hugs the gun to her heart.

**Day 27**

She doesn't know if he's trying to avoid her, perhaps it is she who is trying to avoid him. Whatever the reason she see... notices him less and less as time goes by. She feels hurt though she doesn't quite understand why.

Sheska reads the newspaper out loud as Riza clumsily tries to stack a sandwich. The blonde has found that it is easier to eat if she has everything together rather than spread out. Hayate barks cheerfully and wags his tail, he gulps down a large piece of bologna that has dropped onto the floor and implores for more with his liquid eyes.

But she doesn't see them, she never will.

But she hears how Sheska hurries through the front page.

"Sheska," she stops the brunette, pausing to swallow the last bite of her sandwich. "Please, what does it say?"

She hears Sheska making a slight whimpering noise as sure as she hears Hayate scrabbling over her knees to beg for more food.

"Two more bodies were found in a fountain in front of the military headquarters. Victims are in their early thirties, unidentified because their faces had been slashed off. Both are male, tall build and Caucasian."

Riza is looking at her; no she's facing her general direction.

"Two more?" she echoes, her stomach suddenly dropping into a freefall. Her hand falls limply and she lets her pet have the rest of her half-eaten sandwich. "There are more?"

Sheska grabs her bag,

"I'm sorry Lieutenant," nobody had yet to err from calling her anything other than her former title. "I must get going, Captain Focker is expecting me."

Riza sits silent -proud- in her chair as Sheska turns to walk away, turning her head sideways to steel herself when a small shriek and a crash to the floor indicating the brunette's fall.

"How rude." A familiar voice purrs, "The answer is _only_ five."

Lust looks at the two women up and down, chuckling in an amused way before draining Sheska's half-full cup in one shot.

His violet eyes dances with mad light.

Sheska scrambles to her feet, her face white with terror.

"M...m...m... I'm sorry! I didn't see you there..."

"Hmm... I didn't see you either, maybe I'll never see you again."

Sheska squeaks in fear and Riza gets to her feet, nearly stepping on Hayate. Hayate begins to bark and pandemonium breaks out in the apartment. Riza –shouts- beats her fists against the surprised homunculus as Sheska backs away into the wall. Lust is shouting something incoherent and it isn't just her. Garbled words flow out of his lips as she struggles against him, Hayate sinks his teeth in his ankles but he doesn't seem to notice as he sees Hawkeye in a new light.

It could have been seconds, minutes, or even hours.

A familiar maelstrom of electricity separates them as Ed and Al barge in, the golden eyed blonde roaring,

"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?!!"

And it's as if a sound switch had been flipped to off as Sheska runs out the apartment in tears, Hayate whines at Riza's feet and Riza's hands drop to her sides in relief. Lust almost looks contrite and it angers Ed. The blonde successfully curbs his fury beneath his brother's gray stare and looks towards the former lieutenant, his voice softening.

"You ok Lieutenant Hawkeye?"

Riza nods, surprising herself.

Was she? Really?

"I'm fine," she rasps, in a voice unlike her own. She feels around for her chair and slumps against it, sliding onto the carpeted floor.

Hayate whines again and drops his head on her lap.

She absentmindedly scratches his ear ignoring the half-resentful half-guilty look Roy... Lust was shooting her.

"I'm fine." She repeats; her voice steadier.

But she isn't.

**Day 28**

In the end Al manages to calm all of them down. He also suggested not-so-subtly that she should carry some sort of a ward against him just in case.

The silver watch is in her pockets and the weight is burdening.

Just another penance against her sin.

_Oh god Roy, was this how you felt?_

The Elrics had visited following the trail of the murderer recently plaguing the Central's streets like a disease. They had turned to the most obvious choice of suspect they had and knew, Lust.

Lust had smiled coolly through their interrogation offering nothing, denying nothing, and yet confirming nothing. And all through the night Riza had spent inside her room, listening to the three men –two men and one homunculus- go at it for what seemed like eons before their voices had tapered away into the morning.

Came morning Hayate had risen with the sun, flopping over onto his stomach and asking Riza for a belly rub as he frantically beat his tail against the floor. Riza indulged him, scratching him from his ears to his white stomach until a knock to her door indicated that one of the blonde brothers were outside.

She opens the door and graciously let the young man in, apologizing for the messy state she was in.

Alphonse Elric waves off her apologies and squats down to the floor so he can play with the half-grown mutt Fury had taken into the office what seemed like a lifetime ago.

"It's likely you know... that he…"

The thought has occurred to her; more times that she can care to admit.

Raising the dead was dangerous, keeping a homunculus deadlier still. And yet she had hoped... she doesn't know what she wants.

"Seven killings in two weeks," he continues, rubbing Hayate behind the ears. "No one knows what's happening." He gives her a knowing look even though she knows that she will not see it.

"It could be someone else."

The protest sounds so weak even in her head.

Al shakes his head as he stands up, slowly guiding Riza to the kitchen for breakfast.

"Lieutenant, do you ever call him by his name?"

A breath catches in her throat.

She doesn't,

Because she has no idea which one is right.

**Day 29**

The Elrics leave. They have no evidence, Hayate has always readily barked in accordance to Lust's more unusual movements. Her nights have been quiet.

Roy... Lust, as far as they know, had never left the apartment.

Or at least... they can't prove it... yet.

The silver watch feels heavy in her pockets and she feels her hand stray yet again to trace the patterns on the front.

It's almost dinnertime and Gracia's running late for their schedule. So Breda drops in with cartons of hot Chinese food before leaving for a 'guy's night out' as he called it, leaving her alone in the apartment with him.

He snipes the odd pink and spiral shaped think from her greasy noodles. He eats it, chewing carefully and decides that he does not like it.

He rummages the cabinets and finds a bottle of wine there –for special occasions- and pops the cork, draining it in his mouth. He gets her a glass, from the sound, one of the fancy ones that someone from a long time ago had given her on Christmas Eve, and gracefully serves her before setting the bottle down on the table. She jerks at the small sound, she cringes even more when his fingers brush her chin, the slightest trace of greasy Chinese takeout borne into his flesh.

"You're not sad now... that's good."

His presence leaves her, the imaginary smell of blood and all, dispersing into the darkness that has become her friend.

"You're angry now..."

Hayate growls, hackles rising.

"Looks..."

The doorbell rings, Gracia.

"Better on you."

**Day 30**

She thinks back on the question Alphonse asked her.

The one about Roy... Lust... the homunculus' name.

He is **supposed** to be Roy.

But he is Lust; she doesn't know what is worse.

But it is true that no one can bear to call him Lust. But no one can call him Roy either because he simply... _**isn't**_

Whenever the subject of he-who-must-not-be-named comes up in their conversations, it is always in whispers, never directly naming him. It is always 'he' or 'him' depending on the sentence structure and need for subjects and objects.

It was maddening.

So who was he then?

The one she raised from the dead

Her own personal Lazarus coming to haunt her to her early grave

She hears him humming.

She shivers.

She hears _**him**_ in his voice.

She still has no idea which one it is.


	7. Chapter 7

**A Hawk's Eyes**

**Summary: **In grief and despair she buried the man she loved. In grief and despair she completed the array on her back. In grief in despair she exchanged her eyes with a monster with his face...

**Timeline:** It's a crossover between the manga and the anime except it leans more towards the animation. In fact, the only scene used in this story that is exclusively from the manga would be the tattoo on Hawkeye's back.

**Warnings:** slight AU and x-over theme between the anime and the manga. Spoilers are imminent

* * *

**Day 31**

Sixteen days she thinks.

She grinds her nail against the headboard back and forth, back and forth in rhythm with the tick of the clock behind her.

The wood is soft, soft enough for to etch her personal epitaph.

She runs her fingers over the notches and counts,

Sixteen days

Sixteen days of her mistake

...His birth

...And her sins

Her very own Lazarus is sixteen days old.

Sixteen notches,

She counts and recounts because she doesn't trust herself to group them in fives.

Another will be scratched on beside the rest and then another, then another.

What will happen when they go over one hundred?

Will they run out of room?

A crazy sort of laughter bubbles helplessly in her throat.

"You could have asked for help."

Riza jumps,

"I told you I didn't want you in here."

"My mistake," an expression contorts his flawless features. He turns towards the headboard. Riza doesn't see it but she hears and she backs against the light wood.

His nails bury themselves in the wall above her.

She can clearly hear the crack and pop of his skin and imagines what they look like lanced with blue lightning.

Seventeen strikes,

Seventeen screeches as the carbon nails meet the underlying concrete beneath the wallpaper.

He approaches and strokes her hair almost patiently.

"You forgot to add Seventeen."

**Day 32**

The seventeenth day has already been carved in.

She checks and double checks and knows that this is the violet-eyed sin's doing.

She feels violated in ways that she couldn't explain.

She grits her teeth and tries to shed her feeling of depravity.

She reminds herself that he _wants_ her angry, _loves_ her angry.

She isn't sure where to direct her anger.

The day is uneventful aside from Havoc's visit with the groceries and cans of dog food.

She can feel Lust staring at the now-first lieutenant

She isn't sure why.

That night, she slips out of her apartment with Black Hayate at her heels.

**Day 33**

It is cold and the wind bites through her tenuous clothing.

Buffeted by the sudden winds and disoriented, Hayate whines politely and paws her leg.

She is trying not to shiver.

She hugs the canine close to her and murmur words of encouragement.

She then lets her legs carry her to wherever they wished knowing that while she couldn't see her body knew, her body remembered.

They tumble through stagnant pools of water and paths choked by weeds with disuse.

Twice they nearly been shot by men who thought they were vermin.

Thrice she fell and refused to get up wanting the cold to claim her.

If there were any other besides her and Hayate she doesn't know.

She trudges along and collapses at last on the damp grass of a lawn in front of an apartment complex.

She is simply there

"So you acknowledge the dead but not the living..."

Incredulous, she manages to lift her head as Hayate growls.

Her heart plummets in disappointment.

Of course it isn't him.

Roy Mustang is dead.

Hayate's eyes glow bright blue in the darkness.

Riza feels and hears it but will never see it.

She'll never see the fierce devotion instilled in her pet as he stands in front of her facing an opponent that is far from being human...

She bristles as the winds change.

The familiar scent of blood was all too clear now

He revels in it.

"Come, I wouldn't want you to catch a cold out here."

Her back twinges.

She ignores his offered hand as she bids Hayate to lead her home.

The coppery smell chases her all through the night.

**Day 34**

She nibbles at her toast delicately

Her sockets sting but she has no idea what to do about it.

Hayate licks the floor where the crumbs have fallen.

Roy... Lust?

He reads the newspaper. The crumbling and stretching sound of the gray material lures her into a sense of domesticity, a sense of false security.

She is a fool.

The coffee remains hot in her hands.

"Read it to me."

Her voice is gravelly; perhaps her midnight excursion had been a terrible idea.

It is still dark out, there is no sound upstairs.

It is the yesterday's paper but she doesn't care.

No one cares to voice out loud the trail of murder unfolding before their eyes.

If he was truly the culprit, she knew he would not be able to prevent himself from boasting.

He is a sin, a homunculus and the body of her beloved colonel.

Some things never changed.

"Read it to me."

The coppery perfume clings onto the air with desperation as if to open her eyes to what was going on.

Lust smiles dazzlingly at her.

"As you wish."

And he begins to recite the words, much as if they were a spell and holds it over her.

People were dead, dismembered, corpses before dawn.

How many?

How? Why?

He does not spare her and she is thankful.

The gears in her mind whirl as she analyzes the data she is given.

She imagines him glowing with pride.

Just a homunculus

Hers

"Did you do it?"

She asks finally and surprises herself. She had not meant to say that.

The answer is not forthcoming.

"Must everyone suspect me?"

Roy-Lust is amused; he had the every right to be.

Hayate snaps at his heels.

She clutches at the tablecloth much like a drowning man would do to a handful of straw.

She hasn't forgotten what terrible power he yields nor has she forgotten what he is.

_Charming, Lust, love, murderer, sin, death, desire, want, Roy, honor, duty, taboo, bound..._

The inevitable echoes of a love long lost deceive her.

She is a fool.

His voice changes, harsher, rougher, more Lust than Roy.

"You humans." He says scornfully. "You, you who went against the laws of your land and committed the ultimate sin. You who participated in a rebellion which left your colonel dead and the country leaderless. You who killed thousands of innocent men and women in a campaign that brought an entire race to ruin. The only _sin_ I've committed is being born. You cannot judge _me_ First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, I am far above you."

The words stab her and twists around the coils of her intestines.

"It is what you do with your future that matters the most."

He snorts and shakes his head like a dog.

"My future, your future, _our future_. A fine future those murderers and whores would have made. A fine future _you_'ve made."

Riza remains rock steady in her seat though her insides were churning and the table cloth in her hands has long been tattered to pieces.

"So you did kill them."

The homunculus shoots her a toxic smile.

"Now... I never said _that_..."

**Day 35**

Riza notices that something has changed from the conversation yesterday morning.

Fear is something healthy to have around a rogue homunculus but never since her awakening into the darkness as she felt it so close.

Her anxiety touches her shoulders and despair rings through out her heart.

As if sensing her distress, Hayate sticks close to her.

She hugs her pet.

A crash

Her head jerks and identifies the noise as coming from the kitchen.

Hayate scrambles down from her lap barking excitedly.

She holds his muzzle shut.

She doesn't want to attract notice in case it isn't her woebegone journey.

Such normality like burglars seems like a luxury but her hand slips beneath the pillow just in case.

He doesn't even bother to open the door. He crashes against it and she winces at the sound of hinges being torn from the doorway.

Her puppy's roars have grown louder.

He simply swats the dog away and pushes her down against the springy mattress.

He is cold to the touch. Even all that panting and sweating is unable to raise his body temperature to mimic those of a human. His scent is bland, clean with musk of should-have-been piercing its core. It lacks the masculine taste, of heat and sex and just being human, lacking fire and ashes that made up Roy's.

But she is once again struck by how similar they are and she is caught by 'what should have been'.

Lust's... Roy's... the homunculus' mouth opens and shuts multiple times.

She doesn't see it, she can't.

If she had, she might have been able to help him form the words on his mind.

But she can't so she doesn't, she won't.

Riza simply awaits her execution as repentance for her sins.

Death doesn't come swiftly; it does not come at all.

He leaves her

Neither speaks of it later.

* * *

17- I assume that they didn't bury Roy right away. 


	8. Chapter 8

**A Hawk's Eyes**

**Summary: **In grief and despair she buried the man she loved. In grief and despair she completed the array on her back. In grief in despair she exchanged her eyes with a monster with his face...

**Timeline:** It's a crossover between the manga and the anime except it leans more towards the animation. In fact, the only scene used in this story that is exclusively from the manga would be the tattoo on Hawkeye's back.

**Warnings:** slight AU and x-over theme between the anime and the manga. Spoilers are imminent

* * *

**Day 36**

She wonders what she is doing.

Every death, every murder is a black mark on her consciousness.

And yet her heart remains unyielding, hard as the frozen earth as she patiently sifts through death toll.

In another life, another place, another reality, she would have been appalled at her actions.

But then, she would have had eyes to see for herself what her foolish heart dared not. Her proud hawk-like eyes gone, she is a jessed falcon unable to fly.

It is foolishness, but it is an excuse.

She hangs her head over her folded arm and breathe into the inky smell of the day's newspaper. She fingers the silver alchemist's watch with another hand and finds it suddenly too heavy and cold to bear.

She is alone.

Elyssia has caught cold so Gracia does not come carrying the usual assortment of treats and frivolous banter.

She sets the phone down calmly through the profuse apologies and sits in her chair.

All her friends are busy and are at work.

She is alone with Hayate and _him_.

She wipes her eyes – she brushes her fingers over the cracked lids. Despair bites into her firmly and reminds that she has no tears left to shed.

**Day 37**

It is a dreary day.

She would like nothing more than to curl up by the fireplace and read a book.

But there is no fireplace and not a single book in the world she can read.

Hayate kicks and snorts in his sleep. His ears flicker but flatten as the toes on his paws wiggle. His tail thumps and he wakes up. He lays his head down on his front legs and goes back to sleep.

She pets him, gently, across the smooth black-and-white forehead. He does not stir and she inclines back against the cushions of her couch, holding her breath as he enters the room.

He seems hesitant, unsure as to what to do. He turns around and heads in the opposite direction. His footsteps are light, muted though the floor beneath him isn't. She mentally counts the step he takes, the sound of his bare toes biting into the soft carpet. There's a slight creak as he opens a door to a room, her room. Moments later he emerges and closes the door behind him.

He spreads a thick blanket over her prone body and for a moment Riza panics, thinking that this could be the moment she had been waiting (dreading?) for.

But the hands do not press down any heavier than when he patiently tucks the loose ends beneath her body. Hayate growls at being disturbed and wiggles away from his feet but does not attack.

He hesitates, the shadow of his hand coming down then back up.

She does not see this, she never sees this.

But she feels.

She can feel the sudden depression in the space above her and the swirl of air as it hurries to fill the void that his hand leaves behind.

He shifts on his feet and kneels, a knight before his fallen lord, a friend before one in need, a husband to a sickly wife. She almost wishes that he would kiss her but he doesn't. The act would have been too sentimental, too human, and she knows, homunculi do not say goodbye.

Roy never said goodbye.

And he leaves her, tucked against the couch on a rainy afternoon.

She's surprised to find herself crying.

**Day 38**

They come, in one by one, asking for her health and daily happenings. But it all comes down to the same question in the end.

Where is he?

Three more dead in the gutters of Central, three more ripped from jaw to gut, three more to bleed their city red and to paint their minds with dread.

She dutifully answers it best as she could, describing what he was wearing (he only has multiples of same kind of clothing thank god) and what time he was last seen or heard.

Havoc stumbles over the word 'see' but Riza pretends not to notice. She answers that he left sometime yesterday afternoon, when the rain fell hardest and after her neighbor's grandfather clock struck one.

"He never told you where he was going?"

"He never does." She replies, dropping her head.

"No he doesn't." The man extinguishes the butt of the cigarette against his notebook.

-

"So he didn't tell you...?"

"Did you ever tell Winry where you were going?"

-

"You don't know where he is?"

"No."

-

Gracia and Elyssia are a welcome respite from the Spanish inquisition. Her lips twitch slightly, a shadow of a smile that should have been there at this point. The chubby blonde girl lets Riza run a finger down her soft scalp before wiggling away with an impatient air of a six year old and scampers off after Hayate.

"I'm sorry I haven't been visiting lately. You look so thin! Are you eating alright?"

"I'm fine, how are you?"

"Tired, it's not easy to take care of a child."

_Alone_

The word hangs heavily between them, two widows, survivors of a war. Gracia's green eyes watch the hyperactive girl fondly as she tumbles with Hayate.

"It gets easier," Gracia murmurs suddenly as Hayate surprises the blonde girl with an attack of slobbery kisses. "As time goes by... when he died..."

"Gracia?"

"Take care of yourself dear, he would have wanted you to."

-

She spends the night carving the twenty-third notch on her headboard.

**Day 39**

Gracia comes by in the morning after dropping Elyssia off in school. Riza is already up, fumbling with her butter knife as she fights with her stale bread. The mousy-blonde woman laughs at the scene, a foreign sound, something she hasn't heard in a long time.

Hayate barks happily and runs loops between their legs.

Gracia gently pries the ruined bread from the blonde's fingers and opens the basket of food she has brought with her.

The door slams open. Gracia jumps slightly and drops the bread on the floor. Riza doesn't so much as twitch. Hayate eagerly swallows the piece of bread whole. The former lieutenant idly wonders where all the calories go since Hayate hasn't gained a single pound since her 'accident'.

Ed and of course Al.

They huff in the kitchen doorway, fighting to catch their breath as Gracia offers them both cup of water.

Ed recovers first.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye, we need to know... we need to know if there's anything you're not telling us."

"What in heaven is going on?"

"He's still in the city." A gulp of breath, a small gasp, and a grim, knowing expression. They don't need to say who he is. There could only be one he, the one he they could not put a definite name to. "He's still in the city."

"What happened?"

A tone of voice, something caught halfway between a whimper and a moan. Alphonse falls to his feet, his legs little more than jelly, his forehead sweaty and pale beneath a blonde mop.

"They're dead, they were all dead."

**Day 40**

Two days, fourteen hours, and fifty minutes later he still has yet to come back to her.

Two days, fourteen hours, and fifty-one minutes later he isn't at her doorway, waiting for her to open the door.

Two days, fourteen hours, and fifty-two minutes later he has yet to try and touch her through the lingering haze of the rain.

Two days, fourteen hours, fifty-two minutes, and thirteen seconds later he has yet to kiss her, even though she thinks that she'd probably let him anyways.

He does not kiss her like a lover lost, an old friend trying to say good bye.

He does not kiss her like Roy, like when Roy dared to show his affection physically, desperate, lonely and waiting for the end.

His kisses do not taste like smoke and metal and they do not flow down her throat and on to her shoulders.

Most of all, his fingers do not glide over the curve of her skull, caressing her with love that she does not deserve.

It's the exact replica of her memory-Roy but she knows that he is not real.

She knows that her memory is fallible and this act would nothing more than a sacrilegious insult to her beloved colonel.

When she awakes it would all have been a dream.

When she awakes, she would be alone once more in her empty apartment.

She hugs the pillow tighter with a dry sob caught in her throat.

The dim glow of the fogged streetlights trace where her invisible tears would have fallen.

The next morning, she wakes up hearing voices.


	9. Chapter 9

**A Hawk's Eyes**

**Summary: **In grief and despair she buried the man she loved. In grief and despair she completed the array on her back. In grief in despair she exchanged her eyes with a monster with his face...

**Timeline:** It's a crossover between the manga and the anime except it leans more towards the animation. In fact, the only scene used in this story that is exclusively from the manga would be the tattoo on Hawkeye's back.

**Warnings:** slight AU and x-over theme between the anime and the manga. Spoilers are imminent

* * *

**Day 41**

She wakes up hearing voices but they are gone before she can even grasp that they had been there, tangible.

She notices that Hayate has yet to utter his fearsome barks.

She presses the back of her hands to where her eyes were—or rather where they should have been—and rolls onto her back. At this point in time she would have uncovered her hawk-like umber eyes and begun to count the dots and lines pocking her ceiling. She can still remember where she stopped, three thousand three hundred and twenty-four on the left corner.

Now she'll never know.

**Day 42**

His absence gives her time to mull over things—whose death she isn't sure—and provides her with grief that had been absent since the sin's arrival.

What had she done?

He is not Roy, he could never _be_ Roy but somehow she had been able to convince herself that he was Roy, and now she is so terribly confused.

She can no longer discern the lines between her realities and her dreams. She can't tell who she's grieving for Roy or... Roy... it's harder even to tell him apart. And even through all this she holds on tight to the silver alchemist watch and the gun beneath her pillow until the generic lines and shapes have been carved in red on to her palms. The next time she bleeds she doesn't rush it under the faucet and cold water, she holds it out in front of her eyes for her almost as if she can see it and tentatively reaches out to drink it.

The blood is bitter with the almost-saltiness mixed into it.

Sometimes it's sour and sometimes it tastes of him.

Gracia makes regular deliveries consisting of healthy wholesome diet.

They all crack like bones under her teeth.

The sweet apple pie is like ashes, all the sugar and flavor evaporating into the air.

The cold fact of erasure settle heavily in her mind.

She thinks she knows where he has gone but she doesn't know why and how she knows so she holds back even when Havoc reads aloud the papers after much pestering and empty threats.

Half the pie gone and she can almost taste the food again.

Yet another death, an office personnel, there is no doubt in anyone's mind who has done it. She can feel their eyes upon her back.

She sits up straight her head proud because she doesn't know what to do.

The next piece goes to Hayate.

**Day 43**

And he still hasn't come back but she already knows he hasn't come back; the air is that much thinner when he's not around.

Who is she missing truly she wonders?

Her colonel or the monster she had begot.

She answers—"he's in heaven."—Ed doesn't say anything to that.

After a while he asks if she considered getting counseling. She doubts that there is anyone out there willing to take her on and keep their mouths shut. Ed agrees reluctantly and mentions in passing that he has visited _his_ grave recently.

He shakes his head,

"He still gets flowers and presents from admirers you know, I don't know how he does it."

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth for the first time in days.

"I'm sure he's flattered Edward."

**Day 44**

Then he comes back to her as if he had never left.

No, perhaps not completely the same

Every second he grows older, they grow older.

It would be pleasant to know that they could grow wiser but they don't.

They are both delusional. They are the folly of mankind; one in hopes of a new life, the other in hopes of the old.

And like in her dreams she holds a firm hand out for him to hold and lets him take her into his arms.

"Why do you come to me?" he whispers, "when you think that I've killed them."

"You know you killed them."

"Then why..."

She wraps her arms around his waist.

She feels the cool fingers at her throat, the steel-tipped claws in her hair. She can feel the snippets of gold strands tickle down her cheek. She doesn't answer though. She knows it's the only thing that keeps him there.

And he simply stands there, looking thoughtful, unable to decide what is to be the rest of his life.

**Day 45**

She is like the moon.

She had always been in the background, quiet but a creature of light strong and bold.

When Roy disappeared from their lives, she had begun to fade, the light gone from her fearsome hawk-like eyes. And it had begun to seem as though she would turn to ash.

He remembers the day they found her secret, what it had meant to them, what it had meant to him.

Weren't human beings so foolish?

He can see her glowing.

Had she been so desperate she was willing to kill herself over the depraved creature?

Had they been not enough for her?

He sees her smiling slightly.

It's a content smile, when everything is alright within the world.

It's something many would kill for and already has.

He stubs his cigarette when he feels the eyes of a different type of predator on his back.

He looks ruefully at the homunculus' languid form and thinks --what happens now?

-

He smiles wanly, back against the couch.

He is pale, skin almost ivory, a marble statue in the moonlight.

His eyes are stark, sunken, but they glow brightly as if the irises had been set in amethyst.

They are mirthful but not cruel,

For now.

They look as though they are laughing at them, at the world.

"Just tell us the truth."

"The truth about what?"

A brief flicker at the words,

What about the words Ed think—the truth?

"You killed them!"

"Hmm? Why would you say that?"

He is laughing.


	10. Chapter 10

**A Hawk's Eyes**

**Summary: **In grief and despair she buried the man she loved. In grief and despair she completed the array on her back. In grief in despair she exchanged her eyes with a monster with his face...

**Timeline:** It's a crossover between the manga and the anime except it leans more towards the animation. In fact, the only scene used in this story that is exclusively from the manga would be the tattoo on Hawkeye's back.

**Warnings:** slight AU and x-over theme between the anime and the manga. Possible spoilers

* * *

-

-

* * *

**Day 46 **

If his eyes weren't of wilted violets, he thinks he might have even believed him.

If they hadn't been violet, if they had been gray, black and every single color in between the shades...

He can't think that

A homunculus, no matter how well-made cannot be his foster-father, nonexistent older brother, a bastard colonel, a beloved mentor

They just can't

If his eyes had been violet, Ed would have killed him.

He would have taken both out of their misery no matter how much the Lieutenant would have hated at him at the result.

He wouldn't have been sitting there on the couch, his toes curling in his boots, his fingers twisting in his gloves.

He wouldn't have been thinking of a million and one reasons why not to kill him

He would have taken the violets as they were, sinful, and wouldn't have been searching for every gradient between red and blue to define what violet was.

He wouldn't have thought that the sun made his eyes look gray, nor the dark making his eyes look black.

He would have taken the sin as it was

He had already killed his mother, what's another struggle for love? He would have killed him. Would have, should have

He couldn't have anyways watching him smile.

**Day 47 **

The watch continues and the homunculus has yet to stir from his seat on the couch. He seems tired and Ed remembers that homunculi only have so many lives before they spend it all. For Roy... Lust who has yet to taste the sinful decadence the red stones offer, he is about as human as homunculus could possibly be.

He doesn't know why the thought lights a spark of relief in his guts.

Do they really know what Brigadier General Roy Mustang would have wanted on the night of his death? Perhaps he would have wanted life beyond the grave, perhaps he had wanted--even planned--this parody of a lifestyle. Perhaps he is the homunculus and the homunculus he, perhaps he is indeed the sinner known as Lust.

-

It is dangerous this game she is playing.

A lone white queen next to a broken black king.

Except the black king could easily kill her and he would, sooner or later.

The sun splashes down from the windows and she feels its warmth. The windowsill is lined with wreathes of ice, her home is sparsely decorated with warmth and at times the scent of hot coffee and burning toast. Hayate wards silence with his whirling movements and Roy keeps her company, in spirits at least, if not in the body of her creation and tormentor.

"Is there something you wanted?"

"No."

She imagines the wicked smile and the casual slouch as he leans over the counter. She feels his breath, cold and clammy, scentless offering no clues as to who he is. "Just you."

And like that the spell is broken and the dish falls out of her grasp.

It doesn't shatter but it might have cracked. Her hands remain foamy with a kind of lemony but bitter smell and she quickly wipes it off on her aprons imagining them to be pork fat.

His laughter drives goose bumps up her spine and she steels herself as he continues, "just wondering how long you can play this game."

**Day 48 **

Lust slams him against the wall.

Ed sees stars, entire constellations in fact.

He grunts and elbows the dented wallpaper.

He looks up and sees two elongated nails shooting towards him.

He ducks down; both hit the general area of where his head should have been.

The blonde breathes out shakily.

"Perhaps I should have aimed lower Major Elric?"

Anxiety gone,

Anger felt better, familiar, a friend.

"You don't understand. What happens if you kill me?" Lust asks quietly. "Can you? Can you kill me? I do not believe I've ever been acquainted with the previous wearer of this face but something assures me..." the two nails drag down against the wall, leaving deep gouges in the yellowing white paper and concrete.

They stop before his head, yellow strands fall into his lap.

They stop before his ears; he swears he can hear the dead screaming.

They stop before his shoulders; he feels the weight of the world.

"You can't kill me..."

"Wanna bet on that?"

Edward kicks forwards and cuts off the lower half of Lust's arm. He skids between the homunculi's legs before springing up to bring his automail blade in an arc against Lust's neck.

Lust sighs, his eyes dreamy.

The severed arm hits the floor.

There is red ooze on the carpet, the same substance that bleeds from the stump of Lust's arm.

The arm bursts into a handful of grey powder. The homunculus simply grows a new one.

The blonde watches, slightly green.

"As I've said,"

Lust's mouth twists into a smile--a sneer.

Colonel-General-human-sin-homunculus

He looks highly amused but his eyes are muted.

For the first time they look less violet --more grey.

"You cannot,"

His words are ominous, a fate set in stone.

But they are dead words, spoken in a kind of voice that belied disappointment.

...and bitterness

And betrayal?

"...Kill me,"

He thinks to call him by his full name. Ed still belonged to the military after all, such loyalty, such _stupidity_ should be honored. But he changes his mind at the last minute. "...Fullmetal."

No he doesn't know why the words roll off his tongue so easily.

He doesn't know why the young man looks so anguished, so fragile--so much like a prey--as he leaves.

He doesn't know why there are screams inside his head.

He doesn't know why he hears sobs coming from the other side of the wall.

In the end he is the one who does not understand.

And in the end, it is _he_ who cannot kill the other.

**Day 49 **

"Why did you come back?"

**Day 50 **

He feels the change in the air, a disquieting feeling, unsettling.

He knows but somehow at the same time does not understand why that is.

He wishes... he doesn't wish, do homunculi wish?

Did they even dream like he did, the predecessors, the ones who had instilled so much hatred into the people around him.

He doesn't mind.

Hatred is something, he is nothing and hatred... he can play with. He cannot play with nothing.

He cannot stand not knowing.


	11. Chapter 11

**A Hawk's Eyes**

**Summary: **In grief and despair she buried the man she loved. In grief and despair she completed the array on her back. In grief in despair she exchanged her eyes with a monster with his face...

**Timeline:** It's a crossover between the manga and the anime except it leans more towards the animation. In fact, the only scene used in this story that is exclusively from the manga would be the tattoo on Hawkeye's back.

**Warnings:** slight AU and x-over theme between the anime and the manga. Possible spoilers

* * *

-

-

* * *

**Day 51**

She wonders if he dreams as she does, of planes and places filled with half-forgotten shapes and people.

She awakes from another nightmare, swallowing down the stale air like a newborn lamb taking its first breath.

She dreams of another life where such things are possible and even if they weren't that she would be able to see his calculating gaze rather than blindly stumble across it with the pads of her clumsy fingers.

She dreams that she could see the color of his violet eyes, his dark hair, the alabaster cool skin and his _**face**_.

But she remembers all this as a dream and even more disconcerting, the line between her colonel and the wretch she brought back from his grave has blurred once again.

**Day 52**

They gather back to her from the four winds where they had once fled like scalded dogs with tails between their legs.

They stand united around her trying to support her, cajoling her to let go.

He knows that less than three months ago, they were on his side and wonders if he knows-remembers that.

Al isn't a blind-too trusting-fool. He knows that the specter-creature-man is dangerous more than anyone else realizes.

But is it not hypocritical of him to judge?

He who had existed as a little more than armor-bound soul.

He feels for him, the colonel-general-man-homunculus, who cannot feel anything more than the persistent gnaw of his growing psyche, the snappy bites of the loyal Hayate, residue anger-despair-helplessness of his brother, the pain of Hawkeye's decision weighing down on everyone else, the disgust-contempt-hatred-awe-horror-love however well hidden it may be.

So... Alphonse feels for him an obscure way, even understands why he must _**be**_

Because it was never the colonel-general-Roy-hewhomustneverbenamed that was brought back but a mold shaped in their expectations,

And Al is sure; perhaps that sentiment is the heaviest burden of all.

**Day 53**

He knows that's on everyone's minds.

He makes a game of it, which letter will be on people's tongues when they speak of him?

An 'r' or an 'l'?

It frustrates him that he still persists as a minor pronoun.

His attention strays when the conversation becomes one-sided with the report that the killer has not yet been found. Blue eyes skim over his prone form meaningfully. He articulates through a raised eyebrow and the blonde immediately ducks his head like an unruly omega being chastised by an alpha.

He briefly wonders if it would work as half as well on the black-and-white ball of fur by Riza's feet.

He knows what they refuse to say, their eyes are open, accusations written clearly across the curves of their faces.

The evidence is too incriminating for even him to ignore.

He cranes his head and looks at the newspaper Breda is waving around and smirks.

The people-corpse in the black-and-white bodies could have been his doubles.

They could have been Roy's cousins or brother-sister.

Body count rose steadily with his absence and return. But there were only Roy-Lust look-alikes in the city. Sooner or later there would be only one-two left.

The original and his reluctant copy.

Just him

He closed his eyes, purple-grey and dreamy.

**Day 54**

He's seen more in his short 17 years than anyone would ever dream of in a lifetime.

He knows about the religious conspiracy in Liore, the secret project with red stones in Xenotime.

He knows about the mechanics of the gate and remembers the stores of unwanted films still reeling in his head.

He knows for sure now that he (still can't say it, still can't say it...) is the undertaker-executioner but is at a loss as to explain how and thusly why.

He needs to prove it but how can he?

-

-

When compared to one another, a homunculus is an inferior or a superior version of a human being.

--But they desired so constantly to _become_ one.

He wonders where the last thought comes from--a residue exposure through the gate perhaps.

But he remembers Lust's last wishes, Wrath and Sloth's unnatural melding, Pride's all too-real aging, Envy's... well envy.

So where does that leave... their walking dead?

He stays; he hurts, prods, pokes, but does not aim to kill.

He is graceful and clumsy, fluid and lagging in a way the colonel never was and never will be.

A thought occurs like the flash of a firefly in the night. It is born of others in the process of being forgotten. Its edges are frayed, made up of a thousand other pieces that have already come and gone.

What does _he_ want?

**Day 55**

Could lambs be raised as wolves?

She's seen an article once upon a time, of an unlikely love of a pup being suckled by a mother cat.

Roy-

Lust-

The homunculus-

-a creature of a thousand names and a proto-human of sorts, a modern day Adam more dangerous than any god would have ever intended.

And he is hers, hers, hers, hers,

Her nostrils flare and air pours in, her sob is swallowed and she digs her nails deeper into the groove of his once broken spine.

All of it, in a way that they stray Hayate never was for he was as strong as he was fierce, a creature of his own mind and wit--something too free for her to claim wholly.

He whispers poison-secrets-into her thirsty ears and she revels in their startling clarity. It is like looking upon the makings of a Vatican glass. He shapes with words, a frame in time she does not need.

All of it hers, from him to his pale lips, hers.

Hers in the most intimate way anyone could think of.

A bond between a mother and a child, between twins of similar natures, between two star-crossed lovers.

He is hers.

The reason he came back to her, the reason he is hers.

Because she is his whether she likes it or not.


	12. Chapter 12

**A Hawk's Eyes**

**Summary: **In grief and despair she buried the man she loved. In grief and despair she completed the array on her back. In grief in despair she exchanged her eyes with a monster with his face...

**Timeline:** It's a crossover between the manga and the anime except it leans more towards the animation. In fact, the only scene used in this story that is exclusively from the manga would be the tattoo on Hawkeye's back.

**Warnings:** slight AU and x-over theme between the anime and the manga. Possible spoilers

* * *

-

-

* * *

**Day 56**

It's cold now. And the cold transforms into hoarfrost on glass and she has to kick the windows open to let the fresh air in.

Hayate barks excitedly, his nails clicking wildly to find purchase over the windowsill. Riza smiles in the rare moment of peace and pats his soft head. His curled tail wags and Riza sighs content with her blindness.

The upstairs clock rings a reluctant ten.

She parts with the window.

She gets ready for the day.

**Day 57**

He writes to his teacher, pours over illegal texts, and ponders his own accomplishments.

By all means, the resurrection of Roy Mustang into a cardinal sin was nothing less than a harbinger for the apocalypse. He realizes this when he wakes up and fights over the last piece of toast with Al.

Locusts, blood and frogs

He stares at his cup of cheerfully bright orange juice as though it would turn into a glorious shade of red any second.

It doesn't, of course not, but it doesn't reassure him anymore than if it had.

He slides the metallic tip of his finger over the rim, the automail producing a light scraping noise against the thick glass.

Sloth, Wrath... Pride, Greed, Gluttony, Envy and Lust

Flesh suits around the precious crimson core, vicious creatures with no loyalties than to others of power. And yet they sought humanity in their unnatural lives. Even with Greed and his search for immortality, was that not a classic example of human ambition?

Riza never promised the sin anything.

Lust had never demanded anything.

"Hey Al, ya think there's more than one array for human transmutation?"

Al frowns at the topic but refrains from commenting too much.

"Of course, it isn't as though they're written down in easily accessible places. We had to improvise ours remember?"

That was true; theirs had been much different from the elaborate carvings in Dante's underground palace. Even his teacher with minor correction to an existing design, had strengthened the whole seal by raising columns around the critical points. Human transmutation wasn't much different from creating philosopher's stone

"Isn't that a little too heavy of a topic to bring to the breakfast table brother?"

Ishival war, the colonel must have had an array hidden somewhere but where? The logical choice would have been to go and ask the former lieutenant herself for the array. But somehow he didn't think that was a viable option. He wonders if he can ask Mrs. Hughes. Then enters Winry who smartly observes that once again Ed had forgone milk for an alternative drink.

He roars furiously but he doesn't forget

He can never forget

**Day 58**

There is a brisk knock to her door in the morning.

Too late does she realize that she has sent him to get it.

Hayate barks mad and angry in rapid staccatos.

Her feet drum dully over the faded carpet.

A lamp crashes against the floor; a photo comes underfoot and cuts her heels.

"No!"

The silence is deafening.

Her cheeks flush red as she feels his condescending gaze lay upon her. She hears the shudder that goes through her grandfather's aged form.

"What is the meaning of this Riza?"

-

Her hands shake as she pours tea. The faint scent of cologne on her grandfather's suit should have calmed her but it doesn't. Even before she sets the battered kettle down, a wrinkled hand covers her own.

Lieutenant General Grumman's weeping is like raw gasps.

Her toes curl in discomfort. She has forgotten what it feels like to cry like that. It is not a very pleasant reminder.

"Oh dear child, why didn't you tell me? Was that boy worth giving up your entire life for?"

She...

Yes...

"I loved him grandpapa." she reaches over the table and hugs him clumsily. Her face gets lost somewhere in the folds of his suit; she knocks over a cup of tea that stains her table cloth brown. Grape jelly sticks to her blouse in messy clumps and a cold slice of toast breaks under her elbow. "I loved him so much; I never got to tell him."

A door slams behind them.

The dark haired sin leans against the other side, a grimace on his otherwise expressionless face.

**Day 59**

The old man stares at him with such desperation, such grief that Lust wants to carve the cathartic eyes out and nail them to the wall.

It would make a nice notch for day 44 and 45 and at the very least they would make a nice pair, Riza and her Grandfather.

He settles down complacent as though a switch has been flipped on inside of him. He manages to tone down the feral grin and sends Black Hayate running in confused circles.

He moves as though he is in a dream.

Beneath the aging general's watchful gaze he steals into her bed and lies down by her side.

He doesn't feel anything significant other than a medium between 'it's okay' and 'bad, bad, bad!!' but for a moment he wishes he could. When he sees her face, stern even in sleep, free of bandages with the soft skin of her thin eyelids bared, he wishes he could feel something other than hate.

**Day 60**

Riza spends most of the day on the couch dozing as her grandfather cleans her apartment with shaking and liver-spotted hands.

She has no way of knowing that now.

There is a phone call in the afternoon which the homunculus takes care of and now as she realizes the distant gongs of the clock upstairs, it is midnight and she can't feel him. The panic that spirals down her spine is more than enough to get her up. There is probably no light on at the moment but it matters little when she cannot see anything at any rate.

Hayate is at her side as though having sensed that something is wrong. He licks her ankles in warning before pulling at the hem of her pajama pants. Her toenails get caught in the threads and she reminds herself to clip them later. She edges near the walls feeling the vibrations through her finger pads as she gently sets her forehead against the cheap wall paper.

There are low rumblings and even lower threats. Footsteps create nervous skid marks.

Hayate raises his hackles growling.

The voices on the other side of the wall stop.

She lowers a hand and wraps it around her dog's blunt muzzle keeping it shut. She feels the vibrations of his displeasure through the skin.

There are heavy thumps against the wall and she fears the worst. Panic gives her the strength to tear the door open. She shivers in the doorway, wilting under the burst of strange air.

Lust passes her wordlessly, hand tangling in her hair a smile pressed to her ear.

She pushes him away and falls to her knees, hands scrabbling for her last living relative. Her fingers touch stiff leather and she finds a purchase over a skinny leg. The Lieutenant General slides down from the wall and cups her face in his hands.

"Oh Riza what have you done."

It's a question she's been asking herself ever since this dream began.


	13. Chapter 13

**A Hawk's Eyes**

**Summary: **In grief and despair she buried the man she loved. In grief and despair she completed the array on her back. In grief in despair she exchanged her eyes with a monster with his face...

**Timeline:** It's a crossover between the manga and the anime except it leans more towards the animation. In fact, the only scene used in this story that is exclusively from the manga would be the tattoo on Hawkeye's back.

**Warnings:** slight AU and x-over theme between the anime and the manga. Possible spoilers

* * *

-

-

* * *

**Day 61**

Her grandfather leaves, she does not blame him.

She would have chased him away if he had not gone, too afraid of what might happen.

But she fears now too for the secret he holds, the sins that he has been privy too.

There is no more light.

It's dark out, it's dark inside.

It makes no difference to her. It could have been dark 24/7 and she wouldn't have noticed.

"So he's gone then."

Hayate growls and she hugs the dog closer. She rubs his ears wondering what rebuke he would have offered had he been able to talk. But then, if there had been someone to talk to, someone to stop her, she would have never been in this situation in the first place.

She ignores him for the time being, straining her ears trying to determine if there was something different about him, anything at all she could hear and hadn't known.

But whatever it is, it does not manifest in his bird-light footsteps.

Roy... Lust, she reminds herself, does whatever he does in the nonexistent hours beyond twilight. He could have fed on corpses and she wouldn't have known.

_Liar, she'd know. _

_She'd smell their perfume on him even before her dog could._

At any rate, she cannot bring herself to care.

Hard to personalize people with no faces or voices.

Hard to object if the fits of violence are the only things keeping him by her side.

He nuzzles her playfully as a cat might do with its mate before a brief fling.

She doesn't want that, what she wants is complicated and she's not sure she can keep it in a lineal fashion without repeating herself, making a fool of herself, creating danger to others.

"Do you love me?" she asks, the sudden euphoria clinging onto her despite the ridiculous question at hand.

"No," he says matter-of-fact with a hint of scorn on his acidic tongue. "And you're a fool to think otherwise."

**Day 62**

Lust behaves himself for a while in the aftermath of her grandfather's visit. What happened between them Riza doesn't know but she imagines words and the reason why he has been so quiet of late, content to lie on the sofa and let Hayate nibble at his toes.

"A storm's coming." The sin offers lazily, kicking Hayate's flank. The dog falls off the arm of the sofa with a squeal and miserably crawls beneath it.

"A wh..." she clears her throat repeatedly.

Sometimes it is surprising to hear herself speak.

It is surprising how few words are needed to get through the day.

She shivers at her hollow tone and asks, "A what?"

"A storm... and a grand one it will be."

**Day 63**

Tea time--Riza thinks as Gracia stops by to deliver a fruit pie.

The older blonde notes that her grandfather is no longer present.

Riza doesn't answer. She merely bids her friend farewell.

She sets the freshly baked pie on the table. It smells of not the usual apples but something far sweeter. Still, it surprises her when she bites into it.

It is a pleasant kind of surprise.

The homunculus swaggers into the room as noted by Black Hayate. The dog growls, appeased when she gives him piece of the pie crust.

She is surprised once more when his lips touch hers.

He succinctly nuzzles at the soft skin before reaching out to carve a wedge of his own.

She rationalizes the action. Perhaps she had syrup left on her face, maybe he doesn't know what it means for two people to bring their lips together. Perhaps he did it out of the sake of a memory half forgotten.

Never once does she think that he did it on his own, and that is only one of many misconceptions that divide the line between the two _men_ Roy and Lust.

**Day 64**

"No, General Grumman is out right now."

Silence,

"I'm not sure when he will be back, would you like to leave a message? ...alright then."

**Day 65**

Havoc sucks at his cigarette.

The end glows red and smolders down to black.

He opens his mouth and exhales.

The smoke clings to him like a tainted halo.

He carelessly tosses down a bouquet of yellow daffodils and kneels. He flicks the headstone, his middle finger aching with the contact.

"Wish you were here right now boss. She could really use you right now, we all could."

-

She hooks two fingers beneath Black Hayate's collar and opens the door. The spray of rain hits her hard. Her mouth opens and closes as she tries through the film of water. Hayate shakes his body. They walk out into the storm.

-

He watches her receding form from the window but does not try to follow. There is no need, no one out on the streets these days to bother her.

In a fit of boredom he stops in front of the guest room of his birth and spreads his fingers across the door's surface. He expects movements though there is none. He expects sound though there is none of that either.

He briefly wonders if she will be angry if he should breach the walls then remembers, it shouldn't matter, not to him at any rate.

He wraps his hand around the brass door knob and presses his forehead against the concrete womb in a silent prayer.

-

Her hand touches the headstones and gathers moisture in her palms. Black Hayate sniffs curiously at clumps of wet grass. He shakes his tail and yips happily. She smiles down at him and tightens her hold.

She can't see where's she's going.

By the time she gets to his grave she's tired, wet and cold. She doesn't even know if the grave is his. But her body does, her body remembers the grave she robbed of its owner. Her feet remember the lone trek through the night.

Even if she had her eyes, she doesn't think she has the strength left to cry.

Hayate whines and snaps his jaws at the falling water droplets.

She falls to her knees, kneeling before her long dead prince. Her blonde hair falls in tangled webbing across her face.

By chance her fingers brushes against the flowers. She wraps her hand around the fresh bouquet, barely able to discern the scent of the yellow blossoms through the rain. She doesn't recognize them, botany was never her specialty. But she hugs them close to her breasts all the same, the crinkling cellophane sounding more and more like her fractured heart. She crushes the soft petal and snaps the green stems. She can only hope that the same will be done to her.

-

"It's fitting,"

He says as she walks up to her apartment.

Black Hayate growls irritably but does not lunge forward to attack.

"What is?" her voice is hoarse from hours spent in the cold. She has no idea what time it is or how she even got back. He touches the side of her face, his skin icy even next to hers.

He plucks something out of her hair, brushes it against her cold cheeks and tucks it behind her ear.

"The flower. The narcissus. It's very appropriate."

* * *

-

-

* * *

**Dailenna- **Grumman is fine but that's all I'm going to say about him


	14. Chapter 14

**A Hawk's Eyes**

**Summary: **The series ends with Roy Mustang's untimely death. In a fit of grief, his lieutenant raises him from the grave but what she gets back isn't Roy and what it wants from her is an entirely different matter. :Royai:

**Timeline:** It's a crossover between the manga and the anime except it leans more towards the animation. In fact, the only scene used in this story that is exclusively from the manga would be the tattoo on Hawkeye's back.

**Warnings:** slight AU and x-over theme between the anime and the manga. Possible spoilers

* * *

-

-

* * *

**Day 66**

She teeters on the edge of sleep and consciousness.

Fever weighs heavily upon her and she holds a hand out, cupping the imaginary face of death.

She thinks it is fitting that it's Roy who appears to her in the end, the solid ghost, the lover-who-never-was, and the face of truth that bartered for her eyes.

Her shoulders lift from the soaked mattress of their own accord. The cotton sheets pool at her waist. Her hands rise to capture the sun.

Black Hayate pads across the bed and nudges her in concern. He licks her wrist lovingly and whines when she shows no response. He growls low when the violet-eyed sin approaches.

Lust hushes the former stray and pushes her back down.

Riza feels as though if she parts her hair out of the way, she will be able to see again. Her skin is damp and sticks to the folds. She can feel the grains of sand in her mouth and smell the corpses in her nasal cavity. She feels the sun, the endless heat, and the sticky residue of blood clinging to the air. But most of all she feels the sear of the flames run across her back as it destroys her fathers work, all of his hopes and all of his dreams.

She grabs the gun beneath her pillow but she's not quick enough. Not this time, not ever again.

With an indiscernible cry she pulls the hammer and squeezes the trigger. If there was a shot she doesn't hear one. But she hears the remnants of a scratchy radio, the sound of her breath, the beat of her heart.

She curls up on herself. Hayate whines low and lies beside her, licking her face and washing away the unshed tears. She reaches out a shaky hand and buries it in the furry neck.

Hayate is warm, has a heartbeat and is alive. Her breathing becomes short and uneven. Her cracked lips open slightly and she whispers...

**Day 67**

Water--someone says hoarsely.

Lukewarm liquid is spilt across her face. Some of it runs down her nostrils. Most of it washes down her hollowed cheeks.

She struggles to lap it all up. It's hard when Lust's hand wavers back and forth above her.

Some of it splashes across her bandages, most of it flows down her chin.

Lust sits where he once stood, cup and hand pressing against the blonde's cheekbones. Hayate growls low in warning; he ignores it and leans his head forward onto the bed.

It barely creates a noticeable dip across the mattress.

His fingers loosen, the water splattering everywhere and the cup drops into his lap.

The blonde mumbles fitfully before subsiding.

His hand strokes her hair and comes up with a wilted daffodil. The color is still intensely bright in the gloom of her room. His pupils become vertical slits, silently observing, not knowing if the faded petals were a new source of light.

Hayate nips his arm in warning.

He meets the dog gaze and sees the former stray flinch instinctively. The dog snaps his jaws only inches away from his nose before sinking his fangs into his shoulder. It's not deep; he doesn't even recognize the ache as pain.

Riza groans and Hayate lets go. He whines wagging his tail as he noses his mistress.

Lust's eyes return to normal.

-

"...May I come ...in?"

The question alights little amusement in his eyes.

"Do what you wish."

The dark-haired homunculus steps aside. Fury steps in nervously. He juggles the grocery bag in his hand and sets it down by the sink.

The afternoon's sun floods the counter with its cool warmth but fails to touch either of them.

"...is Lieutenant Hawkeye alright?"

The name is a habit, Lust notices and nods absentmindedly as he makes a move to restock the fridge. The young man fidgets in place, torn between helping the homunculus and going to see if the sightless blonde was alright.

The latter option wins out when talons extend to open a bottle of wine.

-

The room is heated and stifling.

Black Hayate accepts an obligatory pat to his head as Fury opens the windows. The cold air circulates, carrying away the scent of the last twenty-four hours.

Riza awakes amidst the sudden chill. A cold gust nips her exposed skin. She rubs her bandaged eyelids.

The newly promoted sergeant apologizes and enquires of her health.

She brushes away his concern still befuddled by sleep.

Fury moves in to help her up. His right boot slides against the carpet and he frowns looking down at the spatter of reds across the dusky carpet.

"Lieutenant, are you hurt?"

"No, why would you..."

Her foot steps into a damp patch of carpet.

There is a slight squelching. It is like touching something made of flesh.

She is briefly transported to the night when she tried to bring her beloved back.

She remembers the animal hurt and weak flesh-vessel compressing beneath her hands.

She falls to her knees.

-

He slides his tongue down the neck of the bottle. A bullet rolls off the velvety surface like mercury. It quickly sinks to the bottom enveloped in clear bubbles.

-

It feels like liquid silk.

It covers her hands and clump together into ruby droplets.

It solidifies in her palm before escaping through the crevasses of her fingers.

She brings her hand together trying to gather it all. Fury's voice is like a low hum, unimportant.

Her hand brushes against the withered petals. Hesitant, she holds it loosely in her numb fingers and accidentally crushes it in her hands.

A bolt of electricity snaps inside her thumb and she jerks back surprised. Fury hauls her backward with an alarmed cry.

The flower floats serenely back down into the glowing puddle, red lightning breathing life into the delicate veins.

Lust enters the room at the atmospheric disturbance.

He sees the perfectly formed flower lying in the glowing puddle. He doesn't look surprised.

He picks up the yellow daffodil and swallows it whole.

**Day 68**

"Where'd you get this?"

Ed asks in a tired voice.

His hand plays with a red crystal. It emits a dull glow that dies and rekindles in intermittent cycles. It melted into a semi-liquid form as fingers loosened and curled around it.

Riza doesn't answer the question.

She didn't have to.

"Do you think it's possible... that I could make him human?"

-

"Were you ever afraid..." Lust starts off in a far off tone.

"Pardon?"

Al finishes scratching Black Hayate's belly. The dog whines pleading, the top of his head bumping against the teen's hand. Al's finger rubs the floppy ears, pinching the thin pieces of skin teasingly. The dog sneezes.

The homunculus stares at him, eyes half mast. The violets seem brighter in the shadows, feral and haunting. In that moment Al feels as though a sort of kinship passes through them. Though it could have just been his imagination, he sees a gentler smile and hard lines of his face dissolve.

Lust sits on top of a desk cabinet, face towards the window.

"Were you ever afraid that you were never going to come back the way you were?"

-

Ed looks at her.

-

Al wets his lips and sits down by his feet.

The homunculus raises an eyebrow at this action though he makes no move to ward him off.

"Half the time..."

-

She doesn't look back. She can't.

-

"...I'm sure I thought it was a fool's errand, a philosopher's stone really. It was probably like a dream, a nice dream but just a dream."

-

He pockets the incomplete stone.

She doesn't say anything. Simply listens for the words he has to say and doesn't.

-

"I guess..."

-

And he says slowly,

"You couldn't."

-

"We were both right weren't we? Brother and I... didn't come back the way we thought we would. When I first woke up, the last thing I remembered was putting my hands on that array. I woke up... supposedly years younger than I was supposed to be. Equal exchange, my memories of that journey for my body."

-

Lust recants--"And her eyes for mine."

**Day 69**

They don't talk about it.

Her hand slips to his stomach in bed feeling for anomalies. But his skin is smooth and firm, cool and supple beneath her tentative fingers.

He purrs, somewhat pleased at the thought.

She tenses in his hold, her body still hot to the touch.

She frowns when she feels him reach out behind her to snip off the ties to her blindfold. She tries to push him away and fails when he exposes her eyes to the air. Her lids flutter, skin oddly tender from months of disuse. They remain instinctively shut, too horrified to discover what she will (won't) see should she open them to the world.

He laughs in a seductive, throaty gurgle and presses an icy hand over her eyes. The segments of his fingers meet no resistance as he presses down. She lets out an involuntary whimper and he stills in his play, content to feed on her fever.

Their world is far from perfect, that's why it is so beautiful.

**Day 70**

There aren't many things in her closet.

Her uniforms dominate one end while the civilian clothing decorates the other. Her hand traces the lines of a sundress she never had the chance to wear before moving onto a scarf, a long skirt, a scratchy sweater, and a silken blouse.

But near the top, in the space she can barely reach she has stored away his uniform and most of his memories to haunt the closet. She thinks she can still smell the spark and gunpowder embedded in them.

The blue material is stiff and heavy in her hands. There is one more bar than there should have been. She holds the uniform almost lovingly as she reaches into its pockets, past the broken lighter and the unused coins still in them.

She fishes out the gloves and rolls one loosely over her hand. It fits badly; the glove barely hangs over her wrists.

Alchemy was never her calling, even her father recognized that.

But she recalls the overlapping triangles, the flame lit circle and the mark of the salamander crawling near the top.

She clutches the hem of her sundress remembering whatever ill-gotten knowledge from the gate. Light explodes, both in reality and inside her head.

The cloth unravels into pale ribbons.

She holds onto the uniform until Lust finds her later, silently regarding her with dark eyes.


	15. Chapter 15

**A Hawk's Eyes**

**Summary: **The series ends with Roy Mustang's untimely death. In a fit of grief, his lieutenant raises him from the grave but what she gets back isn't Roy and what it wants from her is an entirely different matter. :Royai:

**Timeline:** It's a crossover between the manga and the anime except it leans more towards the animation. In fact, the only scene used in this story that is exclusively from the manga would be the tattoo on Hawkeye's back.

**Warnings:** slight AU and x-over theme between the anime and the manga. Possible spoilers

* * *

-

-

* * *

**Day 71**

They go out together hand in hand, a picture of a shy couple.

The truth of the matter is that Lust is no more than a guide and Black Hayate a guardian despite how it may seem to the outsiders.

They don't laugh, they rarely smile. They are like the solemn king and queen hidden by the line of pawns. It's a hard balancing act but it works, for now.

No one pays attention to how a young man leads a girl about in courting. No one pays attention to the girl's modest state of dress or the dark glasses covering her face.

It just seems idle and harmless, young love that is.

**Day 72**

She doesn't bother drawing the arrays.

Her lines come out bent, her triangles square. And yet she remembers the emblem of the Flame Alchemist deep inside her mind.

The circle is perfect. The fire crowning it seems real.

She can't see it nor can she appreciate it.

The array is destroyed when she can't force her hand to stop.

**Day 73**

He often feels weakened near her and though he couldn't explain why, he likes it, that faint feeling in his lungs.

His pulse slows, fluctuating as if it might like to stop to rest.

He hums contently reveling in the nonexistent jesses that keeps him mortal and so young next to her flesh.

He licks the lines following the lovely swirls. She shivers, her skin quivering like jelly beneath his palms. He folds his arms around her bare breasts enjoying the jackhammer--prey--sound that her heart creates. He lazily engraves lines in his mind.

It is their lamb's blood, smeared across the burnt skin.

It wouldn't take much to destroy the array.

A cut to a bold line and the only proof of his existence would be her empty sockets.

He purrs and draws her close.

She searches for warmth that can't be had.

He can be patient. He wants to live after all--they all tend to.

In the morning, snow covers the ground in its familiar newness.

Two more corpses found in the sewer system. Riza continues to butter her toast without a hitch.

**Day 74**

They buy flowers at flower shop.

She doesn't ask about the meanings. She simply picks out the freshest whose stems bleed sap in to her palms. If Lust finds the number of bouquet odd, he doesn't voice the sentiment out loud.

The snow is crushed to slush beneath their feet as they make their way up to where many of Amestris' soldiers have trodden in the past.

The pale stones become pale marble. He brushes the snow off a white headstone, 'Bruce Elliot', a major. The name means nothing to him.

Riza stops in front of two graves and offers them the bouquet of irises.

Hayate shakes himself, sniffing at the headstone inquisitively.

It is but an empty grave since she visited last. But it brings her peace and comfort. She belatedly wonders if it is true for Gracia Hughes as well and wonders if she shouldn't have asked the other blonde to come.

Something slaps her cheeks sharply before falling down on her hand.

She holds the flower in her hands as Lust stalks off.

-

"Lieutenant Hawkeye!"

A hand turns her around by the elbow. She tries to place the vibrant voice and fails. She smells the cleanness and health of the other's skin and the underlying scent of grease.

"Miss Rockbell."

"What a pleasant surprise! And who is..."

It's not a prophesy that passes though his mind when he lays his eyes on her. It's something of the past, an incident that has already come to pass. But it is not a memory of a gun that grazes his cool skin, that alone is real held in the hands of a young girl turned woman.

"You've grown into a fearsome young lady"

He blinks at his own words and tries to relax his features into a smile.

"Don't come any closer."

"Do you think..."

Winry saw him last when he came to take the Elrics away.

She saw him last from a window sill while he stared forlornly at the Hughes home.

She saw him last buried under shovelfuls of earth wept over though she thought him no better than a common criminal.

And she sees him now, eyes more violet than gray though his face remains the same ageless and perfect.

Is that a killer's face she sees?

Is that the face her parents saw last as they were executed for doing something they had been called out to do in the first place.

"That you'll be able to kill me?"

"Yes." She takes the safety off and stands up. Lust stays motionless. "God yes..."

"Winry...!" Riza says sharply though the reproach is aimed at Lust and Lust alone.

"Why?" Winry sobs, "why couldn't my parents?! It's not fair!! Why does he get to come back?!"

**Day 75**

"My hair, help me cut it?"

She thinks the silence might have been one of surprise. She isn't sure even now she feels the effects of being reliant on her eyes for so long. She stretches slightly into her touch when her hands land on her shoulders.

"Of course."

-

And the thin locks fall all across the floor. Black Hayate plays with them as might a cat and sneezes when he accidentally breathes into the short strands.

It's a crude acceptance of sorts.

She will no longer be able to pretend none of it ever happened.

-

"You cut your hair."

She doesn't answer this. Her head feels wonderfully light but her face so horribly bare. She can only imagine what his reaction is and is for once glad that she doesn't have to see it contorting his face.

He liked her hair long, she remembers, and had complemented her once though it had been said in a tone of jest.

He straddles her and she grunts in surprise. She grips his arms and pinches them hard. He doesn't react. He instead places a calm hand on her bobbing throat and squeezes.

She hiccups. His hold is not unlike the lingering soreness of her throat. She sees white encroaching on her sanctuary of permanent black. She wonders if this is where she dies.

"Who am I?" he breathes, his words tickling her jaw.

She thinks it odd that it has come this far. Why had he not asked before? Why had she not replied?

And so she says with misplaced calm

"You're Roy."


	16. Chapter 16

**A Hawk's Eyes**

**Summary: **The series ends with Roy Mustang's untimely death. In a fit of grief, his lieutenant raises him from the grave but what she gets back isn't Roy and what it wants from her is an entirely different matter. :Royai:

**Timeline:** It's a crossover between the manga and the anime except it leans more towards the animation. In fact, the only scene used in this story that is exclusively from the manga would be the tattoo on Hawkeye's back.

**Warnings:** slight AU and x-over theme between the anime and the manga. Possible spoilers

* * *

-

-

* * *

**Day 76**

The phone rings.

-

Flowers are scattered over the grave. Dead ones, fresh ones, wilted ones, woven into a blanket of soft petals to warm the frozen earth.

They are all tribute to a dead man, a dead alchemist.

-

If Roy-Lust has any thoughts about her answer, he doesn't say anything.

Life goes on as usual.

**Day 77**

But something has inexplicably changed.

The snow melts into unflattering slush.

He idly smears it across his palms.

"What does it mean for it to rain?"

Riza faces towards him absentmindedly.

Her fingers are pale, they are white. Around her are rings of chalk-stained footprints. Black Hayate rests near the blonde's side, mindful of the violet-eyed sin's movements. His ears flatten at his voice.

He smiles nastily, "what did it mean for me when it rained?"

**Day 78**

Back when she had eyes she used to dream in color.

She did not think it was anything important. It just made the images more vivid, alive and real.

It placed her back in time when she was helpless to do anything but shoot at a moving target one by one.

It placed her back in time when the scope of her rifle did not waver from one exploding head to the next.

But now she notices that the reds and yellows seem duller, greens and oranges paler. Black has become her favorite color as is white during the brief moments caught between sleep and wakefulness.

She never sees gray, it seems to have slipped her mind entirely.

She sees a field of verdant green, of fiery poppies and bell-like blues. She steps through violets and feels the blossoms split beneath her heel. Bruised purple seeps into her skin revitalizing its glow. The pale gold of her hair obscures her vision and she panics, falling forward. She lips the orange petals numbly and doesn't notice the other's approach.

She is pulled up, her blouse mottled green.

She sees him laughing, whole and alive. Not as a broken corpse breathing down her neck or as the pale shadow who stays in the dark. ,

But color fades from this magnificent vision like the ruining of a masterpiece in the rain, a favorite coat washed one too many times.

The air becomes stagnant; his hand doesn't seem as warm anymore.

She looks at him critically, unsettled.

His smile is dimmer. He smells dusty, mild, and nondescript.

He looks disappointed and for a moment she wonders why.

After all, all she's done, had she not done it for him?

**Day 79**

Breada is brief, succinct.

"Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong sent me. Apparently there has been suspicious movement within the upper echelon of the military. They're talking of making an arrest and exposing the killer responsible for more than a dozen killings."

She frowns.

"They're talking of arresting a traitor to Amestris."

-

"What's to say we were wrong? Maybe we were too successful. Just maybe we created the perfect human being"

-

A sharp rapping at the door.

"FullMetal Alchemist?"

"That's me"

"Come with us please."

**Day 80**

"There were others before me."

"Yes."

"There was another... 'Lust' before me."

Al nods.

"The ones before me... they wanted to become human?"

"I think so."

The homunculus sneers.

"Did any of them succeed?"

-

Daisies, bright and orange yet untouched.

He finds them beautiful amongst its brethren of yellows and pearly whites. He tries to think of them in Riza's eyes and find them apt. He ponders their worth in charming the shopkeeper

"Thinking of getting a side career?"

"One wonders why you do not apprehend me if you think I have done wrong." He murmurs demurely as he straightens his spine with unnatural grace.

Edward huffs disgruntled as he shoos the wayward homunculus back into the streets. Lust taps his nails against the metal of the alchemist's arm in warning. The blonde flinches and pushes him that much harder.

"Need something?"

"From you? Never."

"And yet it was your expectations that have driven me out of my humble abode in the first place. What do you want FullMetal?"

"The array, I need to see it."

The homunculus smirks,

"Kinky."

Ed flushes,

"It's important."

Lust ignores him. "Hnn... I was always more of a leg person. She doesn't show skin easily, I could force her of course but then that wouldn't very nice of me would it?"

"Stop it!"

Ed's fist smashes into the side of his face.

His skin splinters. His jaw breaks with an audible crack but soon heals and smoothes away into mannequin-like quality. "Just stop it!! You're not... you aren't...! You're not supposed to be like that."

"Then what am I supposed to be like?"

Human bones and flesh can only resist so much before giving away. And it hurt that much more to feel it.

"You were supposed to be our leader; you were supposed to fix this! You were not supposed to die!!"


	17. Chapter 17

**A Hawk's Eyes**

**Summary: **The series ends with Roy Mustang's untimely death. In a fit of grief, his lieutenant raises him from the grave but what she gets back isn't Roy and what it wants from her is an entirely different matter. :Royai:

**Timeline:** It's a crossover between the manga and the anime except it leans more towards the animation. In fact, the only scene used in this story that is exclusively from the manga would be the tattoo on Hawkeye's back.

**Warnings:** slight AU and x-over theme between the anime and the manga. Possible spoilers

* * *

-

-

* * *

**Day 81**

People are afraid to walk at night. But there are those who must continue to tread the path in the dark no matter how fearful the unknown. A few of these might have caught sight of a young man sitting languidly on a bench. A few of these might have looked up long enough to catch sight of the laughing violet eyes and the mirthful twist of his lips. A few of these might have even dared to offer a few dollars a dimes, a place for the homeless, and one man an audacious proposal.

He simply watches, judging, weighing.

He can no longer do anything else.

**Day 82**

She notices that he frequents the outside more, longer. His scent is no longer compromised of stale fat touched by feminine perfume and dog hair. He no longer smells like her.

His skin is embedded with the cold air, a world different from their own.

She'd like to think that he smells like him--would that not be wonderful?

The truth is, she can no longer even remember what he smelled like.

-

"Do we mean anything to you?"

"No"

But it's never a sure thing

-

"Remember Wrath?"

Alphonse huffs despairingly on the other end.

The line is insecure; something the bastard would have cared about.

He does not wish to bring harm upon his brother but he thinks if anyone can derive meaning from their conversation, they deserve to find out.

Still his voice drops, reminiscent as he curls the telephone line around his artificial fingers. "I think... he's incomplete."

**Day 83**

_"Tibi vitam do."_

Lust bids casually after an offering of coffee.

The liquid burns, turning his tongue tender. The feeling passes after a moment and he laps it experimentally to prolong the sensation.

"Excuse me?"

"She got the array wrong or perhaps right. There is no wrong way to fail a human transmutation after all."

There is silence.

The homunculus wonders if he has pushed the blonde boy too far. It would be a pity, losing the only person who looks at him without revulsion or fear.

"I... don't know you."

Alphonse says wistfully. "We must have met before but I don't remember and I guess that's why you talk to me, because I don't know Roy Mustang. But Lust... who are you supposed to be if you're not him?"

**Day 84**

_To you I give life_

It is their lamb's blood, a part of it at least, the trace of it, the quiet scent of it.

It also spells a certain doom for the fledgling alchemist. What has saved them will kill her for she will be the lamb, the sacrifice and the sinner all in one. For him she has traded her eyes, for him now she will barter her soul.

"She got the translation wrong," he breathes,

"Maybe"

"Maybe?"

"She's come this far, what's to say that she didn't do it on purpose?"

-

"Lieutenant, this isn't normal. An array shouldn't..."

"What was so normal about bringing someone back to life? What is normal about having a way to bringing someone back to life?"

But you didn't goes--unsaid.

"Lieutenant, if we don't rectify this, you will die."

She doesn't even flinch.

Is it just her imagination that sends prickle of warmth down her spine?

"Then so be it."

**Day 85**

There is something akin to finality to this trip.

They bear flowers, white and yellow chrysanthemums. Lust asked for the names but had quickly forgotten. Either way, it matters little to him if another armful of flowers joins the wilted white violets on the grave.

He does not think much of his dead counterpart, the dead man, the dead alchemist.

He has seen the nameless terror the face evokes in people, he has seen the weed-like tendrils of hope and he knows if he chooses to he can see love. There is no affection, no indifference. It is as though the identity he does not have elicits reactions of polar extremes. It is degrading, demeaning and most of all it's a lie.

He rolls the torn blossom in his hand. Its orange petals unfold, bruised sickly brown. He closes his hand and presses it against his forehead.

He shakes his head. The images are not his, they were never his. They are merely recollections of a dead man brought back prematurely from his grave. And yet...

Black Hayate bites at the homunculus' heels. A growl rumbles down his white-washed throat.

"It's raining." She says steadily, turning her face away towards the wind. The wind bats against her hair. It turns loose the golden locks until they fan around her like a halo.

His eyes widen, "it never stops raining."

-

She marvels at how easily her fingers slip into the glove. The rough material scratches her skin. She folds and unfolds her fingers through the stiff material. It is as though another hand is guiding her. She snaps her fingers and the world comes down in pieces all around her.

* * *

**A.N.:** In case I was being too vague, 'te dare vitae' means 'to you I give life' or some odd variation of it. For some reason, my university believes that a term is a sufficient enough time for students to learn Latin.

**edit: **Tibi vitam do, thanks **StarFire and Sakura**


	18. Chapter 18

**A Hawk's Eyes**

**Summary: **The series ends with Roy Mustang's untimely death. In a fit of grief, his lieutenant raises him from the grave but what she gets back isn't Roy and what it wants from her is an entirely different matter. :Royai:

**Timeline:** It's a crossover between the manga and the anime except it leans more towards the animation. In fact, the only scene used in this story that is exclusively from the manga would be the tattoo on Hawkeye's back.

**Warnings:** slight AU and x-over theme between the anime and the manga. Possible spoilers

* * *

-

-

* * *

**Day 86**

She had never been able to fly the way she wanted to. Her courage had failed her, the winds were too strong or there was nowhere to spread her wings. Perhaps she had never been a hawk free to take flight. Perhaps all this time she had been a cat awaiting the next kind hand to feed her and take her home.

Nine lives they said, she wonders how many she has left.

She feels numb. Her hands feel bare.

She gropes for the gloves in the dark, pain alighting itself in faint staccatos past her lips. Her head feels crazed, her eyelids fluttering beneath the bandaging.

She tires quickly, a faint sigh welling up in her lungs.

He doesn't come to her. She wonders why that is.

-

"You're lucky your beau was there with you." The woman clucks.

Her hand is gentle. Soft, wizened and old. She is reminded of her grandfather wherever he may be.

She remembers him leaving, safe.

"Where did he go?"

"To save whatever's left of the house I suppose. He seemed adamant that he be let in."

-

He walks through the burning apartment like a specter, his footprints ruinous ashes in his awake. His skin smolders and catches on fire. Alchemic force sears down, smoothing the damage in blue ember.

He takes care. Immortality means nothing to him since he has yet to know otherwise. But he knows pain to be uncomfortable.

He claws his way inside, the weakened concrete and wood parting easily beneath his claws.

The room remains untouched by the flickering flames. For a moment he thinks he sees a dark-haired boy stuck in the pyres and turns around. He finds no one.

He holds a hand out, fingers teasing the bright edged fire. It leaps up, feeding on the oil of his flesh. The skin immediately wrinkles and blackens.

He sighs enraptured by the hellish glow.

And he reluctantly enters the room.

It is hot, even in here. He can see the white chalk lines cast in amber. He thinks he can taste the alchemized fat and blood, even Hawkeye when she held him for the first time.

His back blisters in the heat. The burning scent is revolting, calming and familiar.

He quietly observes the bottles of unopened ink, unfinished letters, the discarded pens and the torn bits of paper propelled upwards by the fire. He breathes into the underlying scent of blood and corpses, and the whispers of dried lavender.

This is where he was born.

**Day 87**

He smells sickly sweet and burning.

The fires have cast artificial warmth to his skin, something she desperately covets as she holds on to his stiffening body. When at last even the heat from their contact has faded, she lets go.

He doesn't.

"If I told you I'd stay with you... would you let me?"

**Day 88**

She doesn't go to the hospital.

The fire puts itself out sometime after dawn.

A few ask about the origin of the fires but this is the poor side of the city. People don't trust authority. The authority thinks of them less than human.

Havoc arrives late in civilian clothing.

Alphonse Elric is not far behind.

The younger blonde is quick to offer her shelter. The taller locks eyes with the violet-eyed sin. Something passes between them and they break their gaze.

Riza replies that she can't possibly intrude.

-

Black Hayate greets them joyfully.

The dog is coated in ash but otherwise unharmed. He gives Lust a perfunctory snort before licking Riza's chin.

There is nothing else to be found in the ruins, she doesn't ask anyone to salvage it.

She kneels instead, hand clasped together in an absentminded prayer. The pads of her fingers touch down on the rubble. Roy-Lust shies away. Weak electricity jump from digit to digit, nothing happens. She stands up.

Al claps his hand softly.

The building resurrects itself.

**Day 89**

They check into a nearby inn.

Dogs are not allowed, but Riza smuggles the former stray in anyways. Lust thinks he should tip off the maids the next time one comes strolling down the hall.

"Why did you tell them?"

Lust sneers ever so slightly in her direction.

It still amazes her to know that he understands her, no matter how fragmented their conversations are. She wonders where he gained the frightening intuition and decides, some things aren't worth knowing and the others, she has seen inside the gate.

"They wanted to know."

A selfish answer but she cannot begrudge him for it.

Is it not what she has borne him out of?

"What did you tell them?"

"That you had nice legs."

It startles her when he reaches forward to touch her hair.

His hand, sheathed but deadly, roves through the line of her scalp.

Her hands shake in midair.

They tremble against the side of his face. He presses against the fleeting strokes, eyes half way to a close. He purrs loud, disturbing Black Hayate who crawls beneath the bed. Her fingers flutter against the line of his face, the delicate folds of his eyelids and the smirking lips. He twists his head into her lap.

"I wonder what is so dear about this face for you to go this far."

But it's not about the face anymore. Truth be told, she wouldn't have noticed if his face was Ed's, or her grandfather's or Havoc's.

"They say that you will die."

He continues, bringing his hand on top of her wandering ones.

"Are you scared?"

She answers in the only way she can to him.

_"Yes"_

**Day 90**

She returns for the gloves.

They are burnt and dirty. The red threads have frayed and loosened, breaking up the circle. Lust seems almost gleeful about this but all the same she tucks in her pockets as though they were something precious.

She climbs down the stairs one by one. The homunculus doesn't bother and jumps down. He tries to coax Black Hayate down with him but the dog ignores him in favor of barking stern encouragements to his mistress.

A man comes up to them and greets hesitantly,

"Someone is looking for you lass."

-

She can't see him; she can't see the expression of regret etched into his wrinkled face. She can't see the exhaustion, the weariness and relief. She can't see how he flinches at Lust's fluid movements and familiar skin. All she hears are snatches at sound and they bring nothing, no images or visions to her empty sockets.

"Sonny, you're like a son I never had."

"What have you done?"

The homunculus asks softly.

He doesn't bother with threats now.

He knows what is to happen. He knows this to be the storm.

"What should have been done a long time ago."

Riza lets out a choked cry of betrayal.

"You gave me up...?"

"I'm sorry my girl, but this is for your own good."

* * *

**StarFire and Sakura**- I suppose my sorely lacking Latin was good for something then :D thanks for the correction, I'll change it as soon as I don't feel like dropping dead on my keyboard.

**Dailenna-** since this story is anime based; Wrath would be Izumi's dead kid. Roy!Lust was never fed incomplete stones so technically, he is not as durable as homunculi tend to be. Perhaps innately aware of the fact, it also makes him less impulsive... and cuddlier


	19. Chapter 19

**A Hawk's Eyes**

**Summary: **The series ends with Roy Mustang's untimely death. In a fit of grief, his lieutenant raises him from the grave but what she gets back isn't Roy and what it wants from her is an entirely different matter. :Royai:

**Timeline:** It's a crossover between the manga and the anime except it leans more towards the animation. In fact, the only scene used in this story that is exclusively from the manga would be the tattoo on Hawkeye's back.

**Warnings:** slight AU and x-over theme between the anime and the manga. Possible spoilers

**A.N.:** And yes, it was Grumman in _Day 90_, sorry for the confusion

* * *

-

-

* * *

**Day 91**

Grumman lets them go. They cannot go far. They have nowhere to go. And the old man knows that he cannot go up against the failed replica alone. So he had stepped aside, let his granddaughter's sobs strike a chord in his heart. Let the sin whisper to him in warning, his talons singing in delight as he lay to ruin the walls behind the man.

Black Hayate had been left behind. Hawkeye still weak from the fires. Lust forgetting, uncaring of the former stray. The dog had looked at the General pitifully, helplessly, trying to convey the reflected emotions through a series of whimpers.

And as he writes out the set of commands into real life, he wonders if the expression is still there, pulling apart his face.

**-**

Havoc finds them later near a flower shop.

The perfume of roses cling to them as Lust eyes him with varied degrees of interest. The blonde feels something die in him with the cool gaze and steels himself as he puts his cigarette out beneath his heels.

The orange-lit sparks weep smoke into the air. The homunculus waves his hand playing with the fading tendrils.

Riza looks pale, almost sallow as she raises her head trying to stare at him with her nonexistent eyes.

Lust loses interest in the smoke. He snaps his fingers dispersing them. The two blondes flinch. He smirks lightly, lifting Riza into his arms.

"Took you long enough, Lieutenant Havoc."

**Day 92**

The Elrics are wanderers at heart. Their place of stay is elusive than most, but even they cannot guarantee the safety of a human and a half.

But they try.

-

"Where is your brother?" The homunculus asks, watching Riza slumber.

"Big brother? He's been called away. I'm worried. He won't tell me what's going on."

Lust sets his head down on her shoulders and sucks on her warmth. He exhales gently and closes his eyes. He strokes her hair lazily before stopping, his shoulders stiffening before they relax. He parts from her, a curious expression on his face.

He repeats, "Where is your brother Alphonse?"

**Day 93**

Ed isn't surprise to see the two when he gets back.

He finds Lust sitting near a windowsill, black-clad hand pressed against the glass.

"Did you know? Did you know what it meant to use that array?"

"What would I know of such things?"

"Don't play with me!"

"I'm not, I won't."

His tone is beguiling, almost soothing. His nails extend. The blade-like edges casts a screeching sound as they split the surface of the glass. Ed is all too aware of how easy it would be for the sin to escape. But he doesn't and is content to sit still.

"You humans are strange creatures." He murmurs lamenting. Dimly they both realize an array has been drawn. It is a mirrored twin to the one sketched across the hawk's back.

It is beautiful; it is a work of art.

It is useless to Lust and all his brethren, how ever many there might be left in their world. Laughter gurgling at his throat, he destroys it in a single stroke, shattering the glass windows.

"You sought the truth and humanity from a sin, what did you expect to find?"

**Day 94**

"They'll be coming for me, you must leave. I want you to take him somewhere safe and hide him. If they can't find him, they can't accuse me of anything."

"But your eyes... and the array on your back!"

"I'll tell them it was an accident."

"The old man saw me; they already know I'm here."

"Even so."

His talons extend. They carve a curve into the air around her face. She feels the edges prickle her skin and make it bleed. He draws near, nails retracting with each step.

"I'm not leaving."

He doesn't mean it but she smiles, bittersweet.

She stands up. The bare pads of his fingers brush against her cheeks.

It's lovely, it's almost a caress.

She hugs him.

He freezes, arms falling to his side. His breathing slows. His eyes droop almost obediently.

She slips the silver watch into his back pocket.

"You will."

She lets him go.

Turning towards Al she says, "Take care, and thank you." The two brothers salute, the motion is not unnoticed.

"See you soon Lieutenant."

She shakes her head, though in amusement or denial they cannot discern.

Edward Elric pulls the violet-eyed sin away. Lust grits his teeth, forehead furrowing slightly. For a moment he looks panicked in the blonde alchemist's iron grip.

"...You..."

He looks at the three alchemists. All fair haired, one blind, one with artificial limbs, and one with no memories. All broken in various degrees and all of them human unlike him.

The watch feels heavy in his pocket. It weighs down on his spine, it feels like sinking.

It feels like a door is closing.

_"...Riza..."_

The door closes in front of him with a small click.

-

"Tell me about him" Riza Hawkeye asks wistfully. "Tell me what he looks like."

The Alphonse Elric considers this for a moment. He helps her to sit and shakes his head with a sad smile.

"I don't think they look alike at all."

**Day 95**

"Former lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, you are under arrest for performing illegal alchemy and failing to report its results. All your assets including the creature you have created will be seized. Anything you say from now on can be held against you."

Men brush past her, filling into her small apartment.

She smells their sickly cologne and holds her hands out.

"I'm ready."

* * *

**Xx Trinity xX**- The days have no specific meaning to them. The ending number however... does. But I now have a vaguely ominous feeling that I'm not going to be able to end it on time u.u


	20. Chapter 20

**A Hawk's Eyes**

**Summary: **The series ends with Roy Mustang's untimely death. In a fit of grief, his lieutenant raises him from the grave but what she gets back isn't Roy and what it wants from her is an entirely different matter. :Royai:

**Timeline:** It's a crossover between the manga and the anime except it leans more towards the animation. In fact, the only scene used in this story that is exclusively from the manga would be the tattoo on Hawkeye's back.

**Warnings:** slight AU and x-over theme between the anime and the manga. Possible spoilers

**A.N.:** And yes, it was Grumman in _Day 90_, sorry for the confusion

* * *

-

-

* * *

**Day 96**

In the end she should have known better. The sin incarnate is hardly a pet to hide under her bed and he is no human to be introduced into society. Perhaps if she had been a stronger person she could have ended this a long time ago. Had she been a stronger person, she would have ended it now.

But somewhere along this misbegotten journey she realized that it is no longer a matter of the black stigma branded on her back. It is no longer a matter of her eyeless sockets so achingly empty when she claws past her blindfolds.

Tears no longer come, useless, useless, useless...

Somewhere down this nonlinear road she realized that he is hers, her responsibility, hers alone.

Alone she has the ability to make him leave, forever.

And forever needed to see her beloved again, she can't let him go. If she dies for it, she will do it gladly.

So she smiles in spite of herself when they lock her away. She keeps her smile through the judge's words and gladly accepts her sentence.

She smiles because they can never be free.

**Day 97**

He doesn't fight against his restraints.

He tests his boundaries, a tub and a toilet.

He rubs the lines almost fondly. They come off in charred plaster against the whorls of his fingers. Perhaps he finds it amusing, even ironic. There are arrays burned across the walls and the ceiling. They allow him to move freely but that is all. They capture him in a box with nothing but his thoughts for company.

And his imagination has become so vivid of late.

He threads a finger down the woman's skull. She doesn't blink, she doesn't scream. The man next to her is the same, frightened but silent, dead, gone, a snatch at a pale memory. Alphonse has been considerate enough to leave the lights on.

It matters little.

When he squints, the burn marks can easily become blood stains.

**Day 98**

"Her own grandfather."

"I hardly think he meant it to get this far."

"Well what did he expect? He's a General!"

"Look, it's lieutenant's decision. Fighting an enemy is one thing but gods..."

"The colonel would have never allowed this."

"The bastard isn't here. That's the problem"

"If..."

**Day 99**

"How long do you think you can keep me here?"

"Long enough."

"I suggest you hurry, the military won't wait around forever... even as slow as they are." He adds snidely, "the walls are thin."

"You have any better suggestions?"

The blonde checks that the arrays have not been distorted or modified.

He knows that the sin retains some memories of his past life. Roy Mustang had not become a state alchemist just by snapping his fingers; he doesn't want the knowledge blowing up in his face.

"Let me go."

"Are you crazy?"

"You have no obligation to keep me here, hidden." He spits out the last word distastefully. "True it was her request but even so. You are still nothing more than the military's dog. It would be in your best interests to disengage before they find out."

"The only reason you're not rotting in some filthy cell is because of her. She sacrificed..."

"Her eyes, her freedom, her life." Lust snarls, "Make no mistake Full Metal; it wasn't for me, it will never be for me."

"So you feel unloved, get over it."

They now stand eye to eye but Ed can't help but feel even now, the former alchemist is staring down at him.

"You could have ended this a long time ago but you didn't. Why I wonder, but I think I could guess." Lust grabs his neck and slams him against the wall. There is no strength behind it; the array on the ceiling saps him even of that. But momentarily Ed is stunned and so has to hear what the violet-eyed sin has to say. "Is it because I look like him, because I talk like him, sound like him?"

Ed grabs the offending wrist with his automail hand, crushing the delicate bones and tendons.

The homunculus doesn't even flinch.

"Of all the elements you could have chosen, you have chosen the flame. Do you not realize he will only consume you and everything dear to you till there is nothing but ashes in his awake?" Lust smiles viciously, their noses almost touching. "Pitiful, you would have done the same if you hadn't known."

"It's called grief bastard. It's called being human! You wouldn't understand, you never have."

Ed pushes the homunculus away, panting. His artificial limb has become a blade. He holds it in front of himself threateningly, the metal vibrating with the sudden transmutation.

"Grief"

Lust touches his neck, his all too human-like nails gouging the cut as it sprays blood into the air. His expression is one of surprise as though he can't quite believe that Ed has managed to hurt him. "That's a nice name, don't you think?"

Blood paints his chin red and dots the tiles. He falls to his knees, his skin cells bursting blue electricity in a vain attempt to heal. The arrays around him activate in an eerily beautiful synchronization. They glow in red and blue auroras across the walls.

It is the first conscious taste of mortality.

It is sweet, bitter, spicy and sour,

It tastes of blood.

"You two are connected. Her eyes, her life force in exchange for you. It's been enough to sustain you. It's been enough to grow you a new arm. Isn't that enough?!"

His hand slips down from his neck and joins its twin the floor. Blood soaks his shoulders and travels down his arm. No--he thinks as he feels the faint strings connecting him and the blonde woman fray and pull apart. It wouldn't be enough, why would it be? He's living in another man's shadow, a replacement, less than a memory, no more substantial than a dream.

"...Satisfaction is hardly reasonable."

A faint rattle of chains and a silver clock hangs in front of him. It bounces slightly. It revolves, hanging from the end of the delicate chain. He glimpses a wingless beast engraved on its cover. It winks at him until it stops finally, at rest reflected in the wilted violets of his eyes.

"She told me this was yours."

It must have been--he can not move.

"The country's forgotten, but we still need you one last time."

"Liar."

Ed opens the pocket watch and carefully carves out the clock inside. Red liquid fills the space behind it. It drips syrup thick from behind its confinement.

The liquid turns into solids.

They glint like blood-red rubies, no bigger than blueberries. He is reminded of garnets set in gold. But these are far redder than day, far more precious.

"Eat it." Ed says hoarsely.

He looks up, suspicious.

The blonde's features are shadowed.

Ed shoves the darkly crowned head down towards the floor. Lust resists, trying to raise his head. The blonde stands over him, face bowed across the homunculus' back. "You want to save yourself? Eat it. You want to save her? Eat it. Eat it if you're so damned sure you're not him!"

-

His tongue descends achingly slow.

It scrapes the air above the precious stones and slowly devours them whole.

**Day 100**

"I hate him."

Alphonse is surprised to find the sin still there after what has happened the day before.

Stumbling to grasp at the trailing tail of the conversation he asks,

"Because you look like him?"

"Not at all."

There is blood smeared across the arrays.

Blood, possibly the strongest ingredient used in alchemy barring human souls.

Lust walks past him and out the doorway. "It's because he is already dead."


	21. Chapter 21

* * *

**A Hawk's Eyes**

**Summary: **The series ends with Roy Mustang's untimely death. In a fit of grief, his lieutenant raises him from the grave but what she gets back isn't Roy and what it wants from her is an entirely different matter. :Royai:

**Timeline:** It's a crossover between the manga and the anime except it leans more towards the animation. In fact, the only scene used in this story that is exclusively from the manga would be the tattoo on Hawkeye's back.

**Warnings:** slight AU and x-over theme between the anime and the manga. Possible spoilers

* * *

-

-

* * *

**Day 101 - 104**

_"It's what I wanted. It was what we've all wanted wasn't it? To be human. Is it strange... wanting to be an individual?"_

-

"Could you have saved them though? Could you have saved them all had you been here?"

He laughs.

"Of course. If you had been here, they would not have needed saving in the first place."

He spreads his hand across the surface of the gravestone. He strokes it almost lovingly, mockingly as he murmurs,

"I think it will be enough... this one time."

-

He recognizes them, and how could he not?

Is it not their blood that clings so warmly to his talons, to his hands? Is it not their blood he drinks though he can never quench his nonexistent thirst?

He cuts them down like a vengeful angel. He recognizes them but doesn't remember.

Things begin to break down when it is they that remember him.

"You praise a man for being a murderer and yet you spurn me for killing. I wonder which of was worst though? The one who damned an entire nation for the sake of your false gods or the one who kills himself over and over again because he cannot bear to see his name molded into that of the first?"

There are no answers

He doesn't expect one anymore.

Not from them.

-

The Full Metal Alchemist comes personally to arrest him.

He's been expecting, he's been counting on it.

He is immobilized so efficiently he thinks that they might have done it before, before him, a long time ago.

He grins to the horror of those who surround him.

Red bubbles stickily around the pike's entrance point. His hands are skewered through in succession like the crucification of a heretic.

His eyes are violet, not gray.

-

And she feels the strange echo in her chest, as though the brittle rib bones might have been pierced through. She touches the breast over her heart breathing softly through her mouth as she leans against the wall.

_Don't come_--she prays, _whatever you do, don't come, stay away from here, don't come._

-

"Are you ready to cooperate Riza Hawkeye?"

"Do I get a choice?"

"Not if you want that little freak of yours to live."

-

"So he's the one who's murdered those poor fools"

"Good riddance, we have little work as it is without immigrants stealing them from under our noses."

"Pardon Lieutenant General…?"

"You heard me..."

"A failed human transmutation, I've heard of those before. Caused quite a stir few months ago didn't it?"

"So who was it?"

"Who?"

"The person she tried to bring back?"

"Ah we'll have to go through the list but we think it's the late Brigadier General Roy Mustang."

"The young upstart who was supposed to be stationed in the north?"

"Charges for grave desecration...?"

"Who's to say he didn't plan all this? He was quite resourceful and certainly ambitious enough..."

"... Friends with Crystal..."

"... Student of..."

"Can she control it?"

"Well... it hasn't killed her yet now has it?"

-

He is not a human who would have felt grief, despair, desperation, fear, danger. He is not a human who would have felt all these in spite of it all just to see a loved one freed, a beloved saved, a family safe. He is not a human because simply he is not though he was meant to be instead of a fractured reflection that he actually is.

-

"So... what do we do?"

"We endure."

-

They strip her down to her shorts and bend her over her bed.

She struggles as she feels the cold hands claim her back, marvel over the audacity of the array her father bore onto her skin.

Scribbling on paper rises into a scratchy crescendo as they try to activate it, over the original lines, the burns and her ink. It feels like the letters are burning through her skin. She gasps, fingers gathering sheets between them. She feels like she is being drained of everything, her strength, her life, her memories, her soul.

It's getting hard to breathe.

And she thinks she can see him one last time.

-

"We save her"

-

He is not Roy Mustang a murderer, a malign god, a savior, a leader, a sainted martyr. He is not Roy Mustang who would have risen to power to take control of the country on his own. He is not Roy Mustang who would have been a soldier who calls for peace, a father with no children of his own, a lover of one bride.

He is not Roy Mustang because he does not want to be.

-

"We get her out."

-

"So what do we do with him?"

"What can we do with him, it's a homunculus. Its existence is a taboo in itself."

"Still, we must make the best of it. The creature is immortal, imagine the possibilities if we were to… shall we say... train it."

Roy-Lust laughs.

"We would reward you handsomely in return of course."

"You can't give me what I want."

-

She dreams in color but rarely dreams.

What glimpse of pictures and still shots that flit through her mind are blurred, washed in gray.

She never dreams about Roy, thinks of him while walking through the dreamscape but never sees him materialize beside her. She thinks perhaps she disappointed him, even failed him. Why else would he not appear even to display his anger?

She regrets that she was never able to see what she created in the end.

-

"You may take such things for granted. You are free from birth to choose your own destiny. I was created to become a man who never even had the slightest of intentions to reawaken from his grave."

-

"Unpleasant isn't it?"

"You were supposed to run!"

-

"So she is..."

"There."

-

"Why Edward? What was it about him that elicited loyalty from even you?"

"Not everything in this world revolves around you dammit. They're planning to use her to control you."

"Ah humans, haven't you realized that the gate is hardly an object to tamper with?"

"You're not the gate."

"No, but I'm the closest to the truth your kind will ever get to without being dead."

-

"They even have me taking notes on the damned thing. The thing is, she's inked over some of the details so I don't know what the original looks like. And I'm thinking..." He rips the lance from the oroborous mark. Blood swirls into a shape of a winged serpent swallowing its tail. "You do."

The homunculus lets out a lovely sigh. His violet eyes roll up, mouth parting in semi-ecstasy. The bare palms of his hand rip open as they are weighed down by his body weight--an image of the holy sacrifice.

Clapping his hand, Ed blasts apart the two remaining poles.

-

"Which god do you pray to?"

"What?"

"When you clap your hands together, who do you pray to?"

-

"How did you do it? Your father was a talented alchemist, but we were not aware that you had inherited his skill."

"I..."

Wanted him, needed him, grieved him...

"...loved him."

-

"Have I prayed to anyone like that?"

"No! I mean, I don't know, did you?"

"I imagine... I would have prayed about now."

"!!"

Ed falls back.

His automail arm falls to his side, the fingers and hand parting at the joints. His knees buckle, the ankle broken as the metal leg splinters together into an unwieldy limb. Screws and gears fly out of their sockets, dispersing over the ground with bell-like chimes. He falls to the floor, fire shooting down the nerves of his ports as the homunculus casually steps over the wreckage he has created.

He leans over, breathing into his face. The hardened nails slice through the blonde fringes and come do a stop against his cheeks.

His flesh splits and bleeds.

Roy Mustang's watch is slipped out of his pocket.

Red liquid and gold strands cling to the homunculus' nails as he withdraws them, his footsteps growing farther and farther away.

Ed rolls over to his stomach, grinding his chin against the floor as he tried to regain his breathing.

"I imagine, if I were him. This would be the moment I would have started to pray."

"...you...!"

"You win, all of you" he says airily behind his shoulder.

His eyes are dark, almost black. "You win"

-

He feels the pale sun on his skin and relishes the cool warmth it offers. His pupils contract into fine points over the violet pools and he stares up at the sky and into the gray-blue.

He sneers and slices through them all.

-

It is carnage, a massacre of scale unseen since the time of Ishival.

And the ghost of the Flame Alchemist is in the middle, eyes aglow in enigmatic red as the world comes apart all around him.

-

Al runs through the hallways and down the stairs. He cannot find Riza who should have been in her holding cell in the second wing.

He hears rapid gunfire and stops to take a look outside the windows.

-

"Freeze!"

And he does, it is never polite to ignore someone after all.

"Not another move or I shoot her."

"You wouldn't"

"You're right."

He shoots Lust instead.

-

He scratches out an array using a stray gear.

The lines are crooked, imperfect, but passable, usable.

-

His head snaps back, bullet pushed out of his healing body.

"What was that?"

"Just a test."

Riza grows ashen in the soldier's arms.

"Do you really think that the Full Metal Alchemist and his brother, are the only alchemists we have? We have other far talented alchemists deciphering this array and what they have found is truly amazing. Just imagine, our finest soldiers reborn as immortal warriors."

Lust says lazily, licking the blood delicately off his hand.

People grow tense around him. There are whispers and the word 'Flame' is tossed around more than once.

The homunculus smirks bittersweet and sweeps the general area of murmuring with his talons.

Heads roll, alarmed shouts and misfire.

"I'm not him."

The man looks startled, maybe he had thought having the blind woman as a hostage would edge the homunculus into submission.

The Major General is nameless to him. Perhaps he had known him in past life; perhaps the man had bought the position. Either way, what he says does not matter, what he does, Lust does not care.

"A dog without an owner is no more than a mad dog."

The trigger is pulled.

"And mad dogs get put down."

-

Lust spits out the bullet.

"...I'm no dog"

-

He holds her down, even as bullets ripple through him.

She gasps, swimming in red blood.

She looks radiant, magnificent. She looks like she is being born anew, without having died.

He feels strange; he places his mouth above hers and lets her breathe through him.

-

And it all comes together.

-

She slaps him hard. It doesn't hit his cheeks precisely. It glides against his chin and pushes against his nose.

"You said you'd stay with me. Did you mean it?"

"We both know it was never me you were hoping for."

-

He hands her a gun.

It feels odd in her hands, foreign. It is like holding it for the first time, something precious, something dangerous, something entirely her.

"Will you not fulfill your promise to him lieutenant Hawkeye? To me? You vowed to watch my back. Now is the time to make good on it."

"I... I..."

The gun shakes in her hand. Her arm folds and she places the muzzle next to her temple. "Can't"

He embraces her and they fall onto the bed, Riza beneath him.

"Was it worth it?" Lust asks in a small voice, a child's voice.

Inquiring about something he had never been able to accomplish, something he never had the courage to, because it would have been an insult to his friend.

Riza presses closer, her chin jutting against the curve of his shoulders.

"Does it matter?"

And the homunculus spreads his fingers across her narrow back.

"No"

-

She hiccups in surprise.

The cuts are light but bleeding. Ten jagged red lines ruin the array on Riza's back like the ten amendments.

Permanent, forever.

"Why...?"

Her clothing comes off in ribbons. He remains stubbornly silent as he holds her tight. It isn't until the blood drips down to his elbows that he lets go.

She falls limp like a ragdoll across her bed.

"Wait..." she struggles to get up. All her white sheets stained red, salvation in sight. "Roy..."

"I'm not him." he steps backwards. Her hand gets caught in her floppy gold hair. "I'll never be him."

She trips over her own foot, frustration evident on her face. She pants, cotton strips chaining her arms. "Roy... Roy Mustang!!"

-

Dear Roy Mustang, what was it about you that has made you most beloved of all?

He shivers.

The wind is nothing more than a warm breeze.

And yet it's colder than the earth he was buried beneath.

The sun is gentle, fawning.

And yet it's hotter than the flames of the fires of an alchemist once upon a time.

He comes face to face with the muzzle of a gun.

-

"Miss Hawkeye!"

She is inconsolable. Al tries to calm her down.

"You have to stop him; please you have to stop him..."

-

He feels resigned, glad even. As though he has come across this road many times before and has come away unscathed. Perhaps he will be lucky this time but he's never been good with women. Roy Mustang might have been, but he was not.

Havoc lowers the gun.

"Sir... whoever you are..." The cheap cigarettes smell sweet. His nostrils flare and he breathes in deep, chokes on the smoke, and swallows the toxic air down. Havoc looks sheepish and puts it out by grinding it onto the ground with his heel. He extends a hand, a snipers hand, a soldier's hand, a hand that holds all the promise in the world. "Thank you for taking care of her for us."

"Thank you lieutenant Havoc." He demurs, he's so very tired. "I'm sure he appreciates the memories."

-

Lust never returns.

-

"People like you... sainted martyrs like you... you never had a choice did you? You wanted to save every one of them and in the end all the paths and doorways converged into one perfect gate. Was it absolution? Was it the war or was it your friend? Was it her?"

There are no answers now, no stilted attempts at a response. He prefers it this way. Somehow the silence is more truthful than what words can offer.

"You are a cruel man indeed Roy Mustang"

He sits down and leans against the tombstone.

His hand wraps around blades of grass, the earth over the grave, and the wilted flowers. The grass and the dirt escape through his finger, the flower remains though he cannot tell what it is anymore.

It is orange.

Hadn't he once thought it would look lovely in her eyes? He wonders what her eyes look like then dismisses the thought as foolish.

He extends his claws. They pierce through the dead blossom.

An offering of sorts, a gift, a truce.

"A bastard like you..."

-

"Without the array sustaining him, without viable red stones..."

"We should have gone after him."

"Dunno chief, a man chooses where he goes, simple as that. Who knows, maybe he's still around laughing at us."

"Wouldn't put it past him the smug bastard."

"But it was nice, seeing him again. This time we got to say goodbye."

**Epilogue**

Her hand fumbles against the sun-warmed headstone as she falls to her knees. The damp earth quickly seeps through her pantyhose but she doesn't get up.

How strange.

Has it really been nearly three months since he died?

Has it really been only three months since he died?

She feels the bold copperplate lettering down to the numbers of his birth leading to those of his death.

One hundred and four notches was it? From Roy's death to death, she wishes she could scratch the missing numbers--something--into the marble.

To Roy...

Her lips meet the cool silver of the alchemist's watch.

...love Riza.

Was there ever a doubt?

_"I love you, I love you, I love you,"_

The watch falls from her palm into the small hole her nails have begot. Her hand sweeps the soft dirt over it.

"Farewell Colonel."

* * *

**A.N.:** This story was started as a gift to a friend who wanted a Royai and I couldn't help but turn it into a tragedy. Though I wanted to finish it on her birthday eh, I know, I'm lazy, I suck, okay, but here's a belated happy birthday to you anyways **Yansoru**-chan. You're old! Old as me! Good luck to in your studies and I hope you reach far and get into whatever university you were hoping for.

Cough

So some of you've been wondering, what's up with the days?

**104**- in the few orient languages I know, the numbers 104 can be read as a homonym of angel, or a guardian. A dorky and stupid reason yes, but I meant it to represent Lust as a way of Riza getting on with her life (which failed --;;) and like many lame ideas, sounded good at the time.

**Roy vs Lust**- for those of you who noticed, yes, Roy!Lust has no love for his original. I hadn't thought about this element at first but as I wrote on I began to think about what a homunculus feels for its original and how it would cope, if at all with the expectations placed on it. People knew he was a homunculus and yet expected him to behave in a way Roy would (which he did to an extent) and well Lust didn't like that. And because Roy was dead, Lust couldn't fight him directly. Lust didn't even like being Lust.

...just ignore that

**Dailenna-** Uhh in chapter 13, about the narcissus. Roy!Lust's comments weren't aimed at Riza, they were aimed at Roy.

So he was basically saying that Roy is an arrogant ass. -nods-

And yes, this is the end.

I don't really have a big speech prepared or anything but thank you **Xx Trinity xX, silver sniper of night, Dailenna, Byakko-chan, StarFire and Sakura, Evangeline Jr., Girl Wonder 2005, flybynight00, AcrossTheSilverSky, Wolven Falls, Avaryc, Siacatmesecat, Roxai, goldenVIOLIN127, SxL, Bizzy, EdElricRules, heka, DoThePieFace, i like RED., -Kai Isolated-, Happy-Spirit, Azilie, OHMYGAWD, mouse-the-all-powerfull, Jelly, FMA4EVER, Nilmiel, **and anyone I might have missed, for running with me and reviewing. I hope it has been worth it.

-Calypse


End file.
